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A Fairy Night’s Dream 
































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THE HORN OF OBERON 









A FAIRY NIGHT’S 
DREAM 


OR 


THE 

HORN OF 

OBERON 

BY 

Wyr 

Illustrated 

Katharine 

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by 

Elise 


A Gwynne 

Chapman 

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Price 


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‘ Wouldst see Titania, Queen of Fairyland ? 
Then go with Stella Rosa, hand in hand.” 


CHICAGO 

LAIRD & LEE, PUBLISHERS 



37397 


Library of Congress 

Two Copies Received 

AUG 22 1900 

Co»jn g M e»uy 

FIRST COPY. 

2MI Cif| tkfev.red to 

O0NKR DIVISION 

-S EP 21 1900 




Entered according to Act of 
Congress, in the year nineteen 
hundred, by WILLIAM H. 
LEE, in the office of the 
Librarian of Congress at Wash- 
ington, D. C. 


.N 

S. 


DEDICATION 


ONCE upon a time, two little girls lived 
side by side, who, so mild the one, so full of 
buoyant life the other, might have been 
named “ Starlight 11 and “ Sunbeam”; and 
they loved and clung to each other, just 
as sunbeam and starlight clasp hands 
across the west at evening. 

They loved fairy tales, too, and 
would beg for one, and then another, 
and yet another ; so that T promised 
to sometime dedicate to them a story. 

But one day, Sunbeam glided 
away from us at her Savior's call ; and she went gladly, for where 
He lives is the home of sunbeams, and it was fitting that she 
should dwell within the radiance which streams from His light- 
crowned head. 

After she left us I could never forget the promise 1 had made 
to Sunbeam, shining away there beyond the stars, nor to Star- 
light, who still lingers, the gentle brightness of an earthly home. 
It is, then, with the joy of long-deferred fulfilment that I dedicate 
these pages to 

Bessie and Pauline. 















The Fairy Who Told the Tale 

ON the wall of a Grand Ducal palace in Europe is painted a 
curious picture. Oberon, king of the fairies, has stolen into a con- 
vent, and with round wind-puffed cheeks, is blowing upon his 
magic horn, while the nuns with their mother superior, the stout 
solemn-looking friars, the market women with their baskets — in 
short, all within hearing are dancing, dancing away to the tune 
of his piping, whether they will or no. I was reading about this 
famous fresco one night alone in my chamber — for Sylvia and 
Little Buttons were snugly tucked under their coverlets and 
asleep — and I said to myself as I nestled under my coverlet: 

“ Oh, if I had Oberon’s horn here to set this sleepy old town 
a-dancing! there’s Mrs. Dowager and her colored coachman, Joe, 
and Dr. Saintlyman and Mr. Pennywise and all the other oddities 
— a fine stirring-up the fairy music would give them, ha, ha ! — 
and the cats, canaries and parrots should all be there to see ! ” 

Just as I was falling into a dream, which was like a whirligig, 
click ! went the handle of my chamber door. 

“ Who’s this ? ” I thought in amazement. 

“ Who’s this?” said a fine sharp voice, like an echo to my 
thought. “ You want to know who I am, do you? well, perhaps, 
I’ll tell you, and then, again, perhaps I won’t. It depends upon 
you.” 

The fire-light flashing from the grate revealed to my astonished 
eyes the figure of a quaint little old woman whom I cannot better 
describe as she appeared in the fitful glimmer, than as a long and 
sharp exclamation point upside down. You might have imagined 
that she had come to put a point to my exclamations of the 
moment before. I was indignant that she should walk hito my 
room without knocking— I was curious. For several minutes I 


8 


THE FAIRY WHO TOLD THE TALE 


lay gazing at her, speechless. Meanwhile, the point of her tall 
peaked hat threatened to pierce me as she nodded it toward me 
with great vigor. She continued: 

“ So you think all your good neighbors need a dance to the 
fairy horn, do you ? What about yourself ? ” 

“ About me ! ” I exclaimed, raising myself on my elbow; “who 
are you, pray, that you enter my room without leave, and then 
cap the climax of impudence by reading my very thoughts ? Why 
should I dance to Oberon’s horn, pray ? ” 

“ One question at a time, please,” she calmly replied, jam- 
ming the end of the pointed staff she carried into the floor until 
it stood upright, “ and I’ll answer in the same way. The first 
question was, ‘ Who are you ? ’ 

“ I will tell you, although you don’t deserve it, for you might 
have guessed it before ; — well, I’m a fairy.” 

I almost gasped in amazement. “I — I don’t believe it,” I 
exclaimed. “Fairies never come into rooms through doors; they 
always enter by the keyhole, or the wall, or the chimney, or some- 
thing ! ” 

“Fairies come in just how and where they please!” she 
answered with asperity, “and I chose to come in through the door. 
Don’t put me out of patience with senseless remarks after the 
long journey I have made this evening just for your benefit. 
Now, as to your second question; well ! if it hadn’t been for your 
oddities, do you think I would ever have taken the trouble to 
leave my warm chimney-nook to-night, deep down in one of the 
craters of the moon, and risk getting the asthma, 1 am not so 
young as I was once, to tell you a story ? No ! only because it 
is droll enough to suit you, and to set you telling it again and 
again ! ” 

Her not-to-be-contradicted air, and the sharply decisive snap 
with which each word was cut off— like the clip of scissors to the 
thread of her conversation — gave me a shame-faced sense of my 
defects, such as I had never known before. I replied in a rather 
beseeching tone : 


THE FAIRY WHO TOLD THE TALE 


9 


“ I beg pardon, Madam Fairy, for having offended your might- 
iness; but not knowing of your visit beforehand, I could not be 
aware that you were a personage of such importance. Please 
excuse my mistake.” 

“You may call me Mikterenos, if you wish,” she replied in a 
mollified tone, “for that is the name I went by when I lived in these 
regions. Now, as to the story; but first, I must stir that fire ; I’m 
used to a warm crater, and the chilly night air of this planet 
makes me a little wheezy.” 

With these words she rose, and clicking along on her high- 
heeled slippers to the fire-place, plunged her staff into the smolder- 
ing coals. I was amazed to see the flames instantly blaze and 
roar, leap and sparkle, with a gr°at rush up the chimney. Then 
they began to send out radiant .ashes of varied color and an 
ardent glow to every part of the room. I seemed plunged in a 
rainbow furnace which wafted a delightful warmth to both heart 
and brain. Soon the leaping flames began to take indistinct forms 
which came and went in a mad whirl like little sprites a-dancing. 
The fairy Mikterenos crouched on the floor in the glow, talking to 
herself, as if she had forgotten my presence. 

“Yes, King Oberon and Queen Titania are getting old and 
childish. They like to have their youthful pranks told again to 
mortals. Oberon himself talked to the great wizard, Shakespeare, 
one night, so that the world never forgot the tale. He would not 
stoop to visit this weakling ” — with a sidewise motion of the head 
toward me — “ but he was quite willing for me to come. Yes, he is 
getting old.” 

Still the fairy fire-dance went on, and the forms grew more 
distinct. The old woman resumed her muttering. 

“ He knows the story will be forgotten if we go away upon 
our long journey without telling it to some mortal in sympathy 
with us — and so few are left to lend us an ear ; even Shakespeare 
listened and laughed but once — and one other caught a few 
whispers from the horn — But they despise and forget us now; 
yes, it is time.” 


10 


THE FAIRY WHO TOLD THE TALE 


The rainbow furnace glowed and reddened with friendly and 
roseate warmth. The old fairy at last lifted her head and smiled ; 
and as she smiled, her face grew like those dancing figures which 
came and went, went and came. She was young again in spirit, 
and threading the airy dance with the rest of the merry crew. An 
air of triumph and power suffused her frame, and she bowed 
toward the whirling figures. 

“ Yes, my king, I can tell it now ; tell it as I saw it in those 
dewy nights of mirth and pleasantry. The world shall not alto- 
gether forget the Horn of Oberon.” 





A. 

FAIRY 

NIGHT’S DREAM 


CHAPTER I 


Wouldst see Titania, queen of fairyland ? 
Then go with Stella Rosa, hand in hand. 


“TAKE this letter, Flight,” said 
Titania, the fairy queen, “and out- 
speed even your name in bearing it to the 
mother of Stella Rosa.” 

Titania stood in the Garden of Foun- 
tains behind her palace, while Flight, 
hovering like a butterfly, waited near 
for her last commands. The queen’s 
arm was thrown caressingly over the 
shoulder of Eglantine, her lady-in- 
waiting, but her thoughts were far 
away, and there was an eager look 
in her eyes. “ Now hasten, Flight,” 
she said, “for the hours do not 
wing themselves faster than my 
impatience grows.” 
n 



12 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


Flight was a slender fairy with light downy wings. All 
fairies do not have wings, although they travel with great light- 
ness and speed without them. Wings were a mark of dis- 
tinction, and Flight had the swiftest pair in all Titania’s court. 
So when letters or messages were to be carried from one part of 
the earth to the other, Flight carried them in a pouch of silken 
gauze, suspended from his neck. Into this pouch he now tucked 
Queen Titania’s letter, carefully spread his gauzy wings, and away 
he flew. 

Far away, in a lovely village through which pebbly brooks 
purled and murmured amid flower gardens, Stella Rosa lived with 
her mother. On this warm sunny afternoon in early June, the 
mother was sitting at her open window, trimming a hat for her 
darling girl. The shrill sound of voices reached her from the 
village street, the voices of girls with excitement in the tones. 
Then Stella Rosa’s voice rose above the rest : 

“ Adrietta must not say unkind things to you, little Miette, 
she must not !” and Stella Rosa’s little foot went down hard upon 
the gravel. “ Miette shall come home with me, and my mamma 
shall give her some of my prettiest gowns — I know she will, and 
then you will not laugh at her any more, will you, girls ? Come, 
dear Adrietta, let us all be friends together and play with little 
Miette, 'won’t you, Addie ?” 

“Ho, ho? so Stella Rosa keeps company with beggars , does 
she?” cried Adrietta. “Come, girls, we needn’t play with these 
two any longer ; let’s go to the pear tree and keep house with our 
dolls by ourselves. My mother doesn’t want me to play with 
beggars. ” 

A gentle voice half choked with tears replied — 

“ I am not a beggar, Adrietta, if my mamma is poor. I will 
go home and stay — nobody wants me here,” and a burst of tears 
followed. 

“ Now, Miette, dear Miette, you must not say so while I am 
here,” broke in Stella Rosa, drawing the weeping child away. “ I 
want you; come, we’ll play together, and you shall have my 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


13 


largest doll ! I’ll ask my mamma to let you have it two hours 
every day — yes, three hours !” and Stella Rosa, hurrying with excite- 
ment, drew Miette toward her mother, sitting at the open window. 

But before the girls had reached the gate, a strange thing 
happened to Stella Rosa’s mother. Through the open window flew 
suddenly what seemed a white bird, and fluttered into her lap. 

Now, so many strange and startling things had happened to 
Stella Rosa’s mother since the day, long ago, when, a girl of six- 
teen, she was walking through the forest, that she had almost 
forgotten how to be astonished. On that far-off day she had met 
the fairy queen; and Titania, who must needs have a mortal near 
her to cherish, to fondle and to command, had chosen the peasant 
girl for her love. From that time a strange friendship had bound 
together the beautiful girl and the fairy queen. On Titania’s side 
it had shown itself in many ways; but although Stella Rosa’s 
mother loved Titania, she trembled lest sometime she might offend 
her freakish majesty; yet Titania was still as loving as at first, 
and from time to time sent her messages and splendid gifts. So 
now, while she was a little startled, she was not greatly surprised 
when she picked from her lap Titania’s dainty letter. 

Of course, every well-instructed girl or boy knows that to be 
the godchild of a fairy in those days was rare good fortune for any 
mortal. Even the very kitchen maids of Fairyland, the servants 
who distilled the honey and prepared it for the delicate eating of 
their queen, could touch a baby so that ever after, its breath 
should be perfumed with the sweetest essence of flowers. But to 
have the fairy queen herself for sponsor, — that supreme good 
fortune was reserved for one happy girl alone, and her name was 
Stella Rosa, the daughter of Titania’s loved friend. You may call 
to mind all the graces of the whole “ rosebud garden of girls,” and 
be sure, Stella Rosa had them, and along with them, many special 
beauties and sweetnesses of her own. So Titania had decreed, ‘ 
when, for love of Stella Rosa’s mother, she had come in her fairy 
coach that day thirteen years before, to Stella Rosa’s christening. 

But besides these, Stella Rosa possessed gifts and graces of the 


14 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


heart, such as it was beyond the power of Titania to bestow. 
Even better than beauty and grace was the sweet cheerful temper 
of the lively girl, and her kind unselfish heart. All her little 
world loved Stella Rosa. Every cat and dog would creep to her 
side, or follow her along the street, sure of a caress and a gentle 
word. Each little child knew her voice and held out its arms in 
welcome when she appeared. But more than others, it was the 
poor and friendless who found in Stella Rosa first of all a friend. 

Just a week before, Miette’s mother had come, a stranger, to 
the village, bringing with her for companion only her little girl. 
She took possession of a small cottage, which in a few days began 
to shine with cleanliness and to bloom like a garden. Here she 
plied her trade of basket-weaver, while Miette, in plain garments 
of neatest make, went to the village school. When the inquisitive 
girls asked her name and her mother’s, she would reply: 

“Why, Mother Gertrude, to be sure, is my mamma’s name, 
just Mother Gertrude; and I am Little Miette.” 

Some of the girls, led by Adrietta, the rich merchant’s daugh- 
ter, held aloof, but Stella Rosa, as we have seen, became at once 
the ardent champion of the gentle child. 

And now, as she hurried shrinking Miette up the walk to the 
cottage door, she said: 

“ Come, dear Miette, you need not be afraid of my mamma! 
she’ll love you and be kinder to you than I can be, — you’ll see! ” 

All this time the white letter had been lying in the mother’s 
hand, unopened. Stella Rosa burst in, drawing along with her 
the timid, heart-sore child. 

“ See, mamma, here is Miette, and I love her very much, and 
won’t you love her too, and give her my best doll to play with? 
We are going to be the dearest of friends and play together all alone, 
because the other girls are angry with us” — and so she was rat- 
tling on, when her mother stopped her. 

“ So this is Miette ? ” she said, stooping and kissing the child 
upon the forehead. “ Now go, noisy little daughter, and bring the 
best doll from the highest drawer in the dresser; you and Miette 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


15 


may play together while I read this letter, which has just been 
brought to me by special messenger.” 

Stella Rosa skipped away, making Miette keep step by her side. 

It was Stella Rosa’s christening day, and as the mother opened 
the letter, a pang shot through her. She knew it was sent to 
claim a promise made to the fairy queen thirteen years before, 
which she must now fulfill. 

When she called the girls back, Miette was prattling like a 
bird. 

“ Stella Rosa, my dear daughter, I do not want to spoil your 
pleasure with little Miette, but you will have other playmates and 
other pleasures for awhile.” 

Stella Rosa, surprised at her mother’s words and tone, looked 
into her eyes, and saw something gleaming there like tears. Her 
mother picked up the letter and read it aloud. 

“ It is now thirteen years since at your daughter's christening I 
bestowed upon her all the gifts which the power of Titania could 
grant to a mortal. In return , I charge you to commit awhile to my 
care this girl whom I long to see. Beautiful she must surely be, and 
graceful, with every witching charm of glance and smile, and chang- 
ing rose color — with eyes ivhose shade I stole from a dimpling sum- 
mer lake under the moon. Why should I not delight myself awhile 
unth the sweetness I have created ? She shall be happy, I promise 
you, and I will restore her to you more blooming in beaidy than 
before. A coach will follow the messenger soon, to bring her to my 
fairy palace. Farewell, my f riend. Titania.” 

Is it strange that for a little while, Stella Rosa forgot Miette, 
her mother, everything else, in the ardor of her surprise and joy ? 
She danced with graceful motions about the room, sometimes 
throwing her arms around Miette and hurrying her along in her 
vigorous and excited whirls, sometimes dropping on her knees at 
her mother’s side and kissing her cheek and hands, lost in the 
delight and wonder of the future so suddenly opening up before 


16 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


her. At last she was to see the fairy queen! to actually live in the 
midst of wonders of which she had only dreamed! It was no 
secret to her that Titania, for the love of her mother, had come to 
her christening, like the right royal little lady that she was, with a 
coach and six, and a scepter, with which the queen had touched 
her baby self at the church door. 

But by this time you may be asking — if Stella Rosa was thus 
favored, why did she live in a cottage ? Why, if Titania was so 
powerful, did she not give to her darling a palace with troops of 
servants, gowns of lace, jewels and dishes of gold ? 

Ah, but Titania knew better than that ! the fairy queen knew 
that no happier place could be found for her favorite’s childhood 
than that pretty cottage embowered in its trees. No lace and 
satin could make a girl’s room look sweeter than those white 
hangings to Stella Rosa’s dainty couch, that muslin at the win- 
dow. Troops of servants could not do more for her than her old 
nurse, nor keep her neater in looks than her own hands and her 
mother’s loving care. Happy Stella Rosa was not yet wearied of 
rich and beautiful things before she was thirteen; she could still 
look forward to new wonders; and now had come this blissful sur- 
prise, this crowning fulfilment of all her childish dreams ! 

No wonder that at her mother’s bidding, she flew to prepare 
for her journey; to bring her best white frocks, the crimson silk 
which was her finest gown, her silk pelisse, and the bright 
morocco gaiters ! no wonder that her hands trembled with eager- 
ness as she prepared to tie the new gipsy hat over her dark curls ! 

But just then a suppressed sob called her thoughts back from 
Fairyland. Little Miette, finding herself neglected and forgotten, 
had shrunk away into the darkest corner, and was softly weeping 
because her newly-gained, her only friend was so soon deserting 
her. Stella Rosa sprang to her side. 

“ Miette ! little Mouse ! dear Miette, do you cry because I am 
going to leave you ? ” 

“ I cry because you have forgotten me,” sobbed Miette. 

Stella Rosa’s tender conscience reproached her at once. 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


17 


“ Come, Miette, it was only for one moment that I forgot you ; 
please forgive me ! I’m sorry I was so selfish — but indeed, you 
don’t know how I have longed to see the queen of Fairies ! Come 
with me to mamma ; she will love you while I am gone.” 

But when she drew Miette to her mother, and saw within her 
mother’s eyes the tears which could not be concealed, her heart failed 
her. Throwing her arms around her mother’s neck she sobbed aloud. 

“ Dear mamma, I will soon return, never fear ! Indeed, I will 
not go at all if you grieve so. The queen can be content without 
me. She has a whole kingdom of her own, with troops of fairies, 
and you have only poor little me — oh, yes, and now Miette ! ” 

“ Hush, my daughter ! do not make her angry by your hasty 
words. When Titania commands, we must obey. But will my 
little girl forget her mother amid all those wonders ? ” 

“Oh, mamma!— but indeed, you could not have meant it; 
your Stella Rosa forget you ( ” she sobbed again, and then dried 
her eyes to smile upon her mother. “I’ll come hurrying back 
like the west wind some day when you least expect it, and bring 
you a prize from Fairyland — you’ll see ! ” 

“ Bring me yourself, daughter, for that will be the best gift of 

all.” 

“And oh, mamma, here is Miette, my little Mouse! Won’t 
you let her fill my place while I am gone ? ” 

“Yes, dear, Miette shall be like a daughter to me for my 
daughter’s sake. You’ll be rich in mothers, wont you, little Miette I ” 
Miette looked too shyly happy for words as Stella Rosa w^ent on : 
“And some of my frocks, mamma, will almost fit Miette ; and 
please let her play with my best doll every day. I shan’t need it 
now, shall I, mamma ? ” 

While they were still talking a new wonder made its appear- 
ance in the village street. It was nothing less than the coach, 
sent by Titania, to carry Stella Rosa to Fairyland. As it drew up 
at the gate, it was surrounded by an eager crowd of curious gazers. 
All the boys of the village school were there, of course ; and 
unfriendly Adrietta, with the few girls who had followed her to 


18 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


the pear tree, looked on with wondering and curious eyes. Per- 
haps you are thinking that this coach was a mere phantasm after 
all — a hollow pumpkin, perhaps, lined with mullein leaves, and 
drawn by beetles or mice ! In fact, Adrietta, when told it was a 
fairy coach, did declare that in her opinion it was a make-believe. 
But if you have any such idea, it shall at once be corrected. That 
coach of Cinderella’s, which is the only fairy coach you know of, 
was only a make-believe, it is true ; and the fairy godmother 
couldn’t make believe after midnight, for she was one of the 
twelve o’clock fairies, who have no power after that hour. This 
coach of Stella Rosa’s was a real fairy coach, just as Titania was 
a real fairy and the reigning queen. For how could Stella Rosa, 
who was a well-grown girl, get into such a vehicle as that of 
Cinderella’s without crushing the whole carriage under her and 
sitting down in the midst of broken pumpkin and flattened 
beetles? Your Lillie couldn’t, nor your Sylvia, and they are just 
turned thirteen. What do you say ? The fairy queen could have 
made it seem right f Yes, she could, but she did not need to. No, 
Titania has been much misunderstood, and it is for me, Mikterenos, 
to set the world right on this point. She had more riches than 
the queen of Crim Tartary, and she had well provided for her 
favorite. The coach was a real one, small, to be sure, and dainty, 
lined with the very latest shade of olive-green satin, and drawn by 
the dearest little black ponies, with just enough of room in it for 
Stella Rosa to sit in comfort. The coachman was dressed in light 
green and gold, and by the twinkle of his saucy eyes, I should have 
known him to be Pugpippin, one of Titania’s pranksome followers. 

Once in the coach, which she entered with a few tears through 
which gleamed a look of delight, the ponies flew swiftly along, 
with Stella Rosa behind them wrapped in such absorbing thoughts 
that presto ! before she could realize that she was fairly on her 
journey, she was at the court of the fairy queen ; and there was 
Titania herself, who, in a voice like many fine bells, exclaimed: 

“Welcome, my darling, to your godmother’s home!” and 
then she was surrounded by fairies singing, dancing and leading 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


19 


her toward the palace of Titania, which glistened in the last rays 
of the setting sun. 

Titania’s palace, set in the midst of small gardens, was of spun 
glass interwoven and twisted together in countless hues. Here, in 
a bower of beauty, was to be for the present Stella Rosa’s home. 

From this time on, the whole court was kept agog with excite- 
ment, inventing games and planning surprises for her enjoyment. 
Now, it was a stereopticon exhibition (you need not look so scorn- 
ful, for the magic lantern was then unknown among mortals, and 
of course it was a wonder and delight to Stella Rosa); then a 
Punch and Judy sent her into spasms of laughter. What do you 
say ? (Punch known for ever so long, and old as the hills)? I have 
lived long enough to know that Nimblewit invented it at that time 
to please Stella Rosa ; — and oh ! the wonderful array of talking 
dolls and self -skipping ropes, and grace-hoops which flew for Stella 
Rosa of their own accord ! and the first bicycle of the world ! Tita- 
nia’s goddaughter ought to have been, and was, a very happy girl. 

Then she was allowed to see the maids prepare the honey in 
the queen’s kitchen (she and Titania ate bread and honey there 
every day), and watch the fairy laborers gather the hay for 
Titania’s horses. But perhaps her greatest delight was to ramble 
through the flower-gardens, which stretched far out of sight, in 
three directions from the palace. Titania, by right as queen of 
Fairyland, received tribute from the whole world of flower-fairies. 
From all around the world, each flower sent a legate to her court. 
When the fairy came she brought with her her own pretty house, 
the flower she most loved, and Titania gave it a place in her grounds. 
Thus it was that Stella Rosa wandered daily through botanical 
gardens that would have brought tears of delight to the eyes of a 
savant , if such creatures had lived in that simple fairy age. 

But the fourth garden, the one behind the palace, was to Stella 
Rosa a delight too deep for words. Here were few flowers, it is 
true, but in their place were many fountains. And the strange 
and beautiful part of it was that the fountains were themselves 
huge and gorgeous plants, blooming ever anew in sparkling water. 


20 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


Some tossed up their spray in the shape of great rose trees, which 
ever and anon burst into huge water roses, pink or crimson or yel- 
low. Others were like chrysanthemums, palms or ferns. Rising 
highest of all was a great lily fountain, in the middle of the 
garden, spreading wide on every side in crystal lilies, and over it 
hung a rainbow which never faded, but grew more soft and 
dreamlike in the moonlit nights. All the fountains were scented, 
too, like the flowers they stood for, so that when Stella Rosa 
walked amid the fountains, her garments caught the fragrance 
from the flying spray. Wonderful birds splashed and played all 
day around the alabaster basins and sang as if they would sing 
themselves to death for joy of the fountain music. 

And was not Stella Rosa happy ? When Queen Titania would 
ask her each day, she at first freely replied: 

“ Yes, indeed, very, very happy, dear Godmother ! ” 

And so for awhile, all went well. 

But yet — but yet — if she could only, have had dear mamma 
there to enjoy all these delights with her ! And not only mamma, 
but little Miette and her schoolmates and the poor lame old man 
and his dog Ranger ; but no, it would never do to have Ranger 
there crashing about the spun-glass palace and crushing the fairy 
flowers. If she could but just pat him on the head for a moment, 
or take “ Fluff,” the kitten, in her arms ! 

At last, Titania was obliged to confess that she sometimes saw 
a weary look cross her goddaughter’s face, which told her that 
Stella Rosa would fain steal away from all this gaiety to nestle 
for awhile in her mother’s arms. Then it was that Titania con- 
jured up in her wilful mind a new project, little thinking that 
the Land of Fairy was to be shaken to its center with such a com- 
motion as had never been known in that kingdom ; two people 
were to be made happy who had been sorrowful ; one unlucky wight 
would be made sorrowful — for a night ; and more than all, King 
Oberon and Queen Titan tia, who had quarreled, would at last kiss 
and make up, and live happy ever after, which is the only sensible 
thing for any one to do either in Fairyland or Everyday Land. 


(■ 

W- 



CHAPTER II 


Enter now the magic Horn — 

But hist! away ! 

Should Oberon find you ere the morn, 
You'll rue the day. 


NOW you must know that his Royal 
and ever lofty Mightiness, King Oberon, 
valued his faiiy horn almost more than 
his Majesty’s own saucy, up-tilted nose. 
He had nothing else which gave half 
the merriment to himself and his jolly 
crew that this cunning bugle could bring. 
You see, it had the power of starting an 
unexpected dance from the severest peo- 
ple in the most unlikely places. But 
that was not all. It could mislead and 
bewilder mortals when they were peace- 
fully pursuing their ways, and when it had 
made them thoroughly frightened and an- 
gry, it could restore them to good-nature. 
Why, one blast of the tiny thing was so 
blithe and laughter-exciting, that it was 


21 


22 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


enough to set anybody’s feet tripping for the rest of the day. 
Oh, there was no end to the pranks it had played, I promise you ! 
Would you know from whence had come its magic power, and 
how Oberon came by it ? 

The Mirth-King could have told you, or the Mirth-King’s 
hereditary grand armorer. It was he who whispered the secret 
to me. 

That high official, the armorer, had never had anything to do, 
because the Mirth-King, who was first cousin to King Oberon, 
never went to war, and needed armor no more than he needed the 
moon. He kept an armorer, to be sure, and other officers, for the 
sake of his royal dignity, which I am sorry to say was upset every 
day by his mad pranks. As to the armorer, day after day, he 
lighted his forge and kept the hammer lying on the anvil for the 
sake of his dignity. But being one of those great souls who long 
to make the world happier, he was always looking about for some- 
thing to do which was really worth his while. 

And one day he found it. It came to him while he was 
rambling through the Talking Wood. Right next to the wood 
was a grassy shaded field, so inviting that every joyous creature 
was mad to romp in it as soon as he saw it. At night, the 
mirth-fairies sported there. With dawn, came the nymphs and 
dryads, chased by the mischievous fauns. A little later, when the 
sun was bright, the squirrels chattered and frisked there, and the 
young foxes capered over the grass. But the very spirit of the 
place broke loose completely only in the afternoon, when the chil- 
dren, freed from school, scampered with shouts and laughter about 
the happy meadow. 

They were playing there that day while the armorer was in 
the Talking Wood. As the ears of the armorer were perfectly 
deaf, he heard with his eyes. While he looked about him, the chil- 
dren’s shouts and laughter were blown to him by the breeze, and 
he saw them falling around him in a fine shower of silver and 
gold dust. Happier than a king, he carefully gathered together 
all the powder he could find, and carried it away to his forge room. 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


28 


Again and again he returned, each time departing with a 
treasure. Sometimes it was the diamond dust scattered by the 
mirth-fairies’ laughter ; or, most precious element of all, the flying 
crystals of rainbow color from the pipes that played for the happy 
dancers. The lark’s song, the squirrel’s chatter, the lamb’s con- 
tented bleat, and all happy and care-free voices each gave its por- 
tion to the good armorer’s store. When he had gathered enough 
of the precious crystals, he shut himself in his forge room, and did 
not come out for a year and a day. The Mirth-King visited him 
there each week, and passers-by could hear bursts of laughter 
which nearly sent every one in the kingdom mad with eagerness 
to join in the fun. 

But at last the king appeared with a tiny horn, engraved with 
laughing faces, and made up of all the jolliest, merriest and most 
innocent things which the world ever saw. 

One day, the Mirth-King went away upon a long journey. 
This was many moonlit nights before the other fairies left the 
earth; and for fear mirth and laughter should be forgotten, he 
gave the horn to Oberon, his old-time crony, so that he might keep 
the child-heart beating in the world. He did not know that it 
needed both the king and the queen of the fairies to use the horn 
at its best; for while Oberon was frolicsome, Titania was fond 
and loving, and both frolic and love are needed to keep the 
child-heart beating. But Oberon would not have parted with 
it for anything less than his own ransom; so he piped and 
piped, and the world danced and laughed, and he led it where he 
would. 

Now Titania had never quite forgiven Oberon for the unfair 
way in which he had won from her the little changeling boy, the 
account of which you have read in the great wizard’s book. At 
first she had laughed, not knowing all the trick ; but when she 
found that Oberon had not only won her petted boy, but had made 
her absurd in the eyes of all Fairyland, she was wild with grief 
and shame. Then it was that she fled to her own sweet palace, 
and with Eglantine, her dearest lady, and half the fairies of the 


24 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


kingdom, tried to forget her teasing Oberon. Truth to tell, her 
going was a relief to the careless-natured king, who, although he 
might quarrel, really loved only his sports. 

Titania had long hoped to gain from him a prize of his own. 
And now when all other means of pleasing Stella Rosa had been 
exhausted, she bethought herself of the wonderful horn. 

“ The horn ! the horn ! what is there in Fairyland which will 
delight Stella Rosa like this? By fair means or foul, I must get it 
from him ! ” 

She first tried entreaties. To make them resistless, if possible, 
she arrayed herself in smiles (but did not neglect to wear the 
latest thing in court styles, which was also extremely becoming), 
and went to call upon her lord. 

No one upon earth but Oberon himself could have withstood 
the charm of her manner, as she begged him to forget past 
disputes. 

“Fair lord and husband, I know that I have resisted your 
royal will, and have sought my own pleasure and asserted my own 
power and rights. This I know is contrary to wifely duty, foi* I 
should have found my happiness only in pleasing you.” 

Oberon, naturally delighted to hear his wife speak in a man- 
ner so correct and dutiful, replied by compliments. 

“Lovely Titania, it suits me right well to hear you speak so 
humbly to me, your master and king. I must say, I never saw 
you more charming than now. You really are not faded at all, 
as I have sometimes fancied, but are quite as fresh and piquant 
as when I chose you out of all Fairyland for my bride. To 
show you my favor, I will at once settle a pension on your court 
dress-maker.” 

“Dear lord and master,” said Titania, sinking gracefully 
upon an ottoman at his feet, and looking into his face with 
clasped hands and a ravishing smile, “your gracious offer — so 
like your thoughtfulness ! — makes me feel that all is at last for- 
gotten which stood between us. The court dress-maker I pro- 
vided for yesterday, because she made so charming the robe which 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


25 


I had chosen to please my lord; and now, I know yon will not 
refuse me some other token of our re-union.” 

“Charming Titania, what would you have? shall I send a 
diamond-dew necklace to each of your maids ? I feel very com- 
plaisant this morning, and if there is any favor which I can rea- 
sonably grant, I shall be happy to please you.” 

“ Dear Oberon, I have long admired the power of your curious 
horn. I have been told that it will restore the sulky and ill-tem- 
pered to good-nature, and as some of my attendants need such a 
remedy, I beg you will grant to your Titania, the one you chose 
out of all Fairyland for your bride, this pledge of your forgive- 
ness.” 

Now Oberon had no intention of letting his favorite toy pa,ss 
out of his hands. So assuming an air of dignity, he replied : 

“ Really, Titania, I said I would grant anything which was 
reasonable, but it is quite out of the question for you to expect me 
to give you a thing I set any value on myself. Name something 
else.” 

“Alas, my lord! what can I ask of you but this? Am I not 
queen of this fair kingdom ? Have I not a court of my own, and 
power to do as I will? Your petty diamonds and pearls I do not 
care for, when my bower is hung with jewels. But remember, 
you took from me the only creature I had set my heart upon, and 
I grieved long ; now, a lovely girl dwells in my bower. To please 
her, I would amuse our idle hours with this charming toy.” 

“ Then you must find another plaything for your dainty god- 
child. It is not Oberon’s wont to give up what pleases him so 
well.” 

“But only for a night, dear Oberon.” 

“ No, you could not buy it of me with your whole rebel crew. 
I would willingly give you my cast-off slippers of speed or my last 
year’s cap of silence, — for they would soon rid me of your entreat- 
ies,” he muttered in an undertone. 

Titania, finding flattery and prayers in vain, turned her back 
upon him, called her train and prepared to leave the place in a 


26 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


pout, when he, bethinking himself of the bugle, had it at his lips 
in a trice. Its merry blast sent his ill-used lady and her attend- 
ants dancing away until they were out of hearing. 

This new insult was more than Titania could bear. She flew 
in a rage to her most secret bower to plot revenge, and called to 
her her most trusty followers. 

u Such insult no queen ever before received from her con- 
sort !” she exclaimed, pacing up and down the hall. “ Hence- 
forth, I shall forget all love and duty to Oberon, until I have 
won from him the horn. Eglantine, lovely sprite, come, walk 
by my side ; and tell me, Sweet, have you no power in Oberon’s 
halls ? Have you no friend at court whom you may win to our 
cause? Think, can Oberon be prevailed upon by any love of 
yours ? ” 

Eglantine turned a faint rose color throughout her pale, still 
face, and drooping her head upon her breast, shook it softly. The 
queen was too intent upon her projects to notice her favorite 
fairy’s distress. 

She turned to her other counsellors. 

“ You, Flight, and you, Nimblewit and Lightwing, you are all 
swift and wily. Call to your aid every fairy in the kingdom who 
will help you. Follow night and day in the track of this heartless 
king, and seize the horn in an unwary moment. This prize I 
must obtain to vindicate my queenly dignity.” 

The delicate creature in her pretty frenzy was a witching 
thing to look upon. Her robes of airiest green swept about her as 
if a zephyr were bearing them up, and fanned the air like wings. 
Through them gleamed a pink glow which suffused the atmos- 
phere about her. 

Nimblewit, followed by the others, knelt and kissed her 
hand. 

“Do not fear, my queen,” he said, “fairy time is long, and 
Oberon’s memory very short. He has entirely forgotten his 
promise to me of rewarding the service I rendered him not so long 
ago. I will remind him of it again by another good turn. I’ll 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


27 


relieve him of the horn, whose weight must sometimes make him 
weary. 11 

“ Come, comrades, away ! 11 said Flight. “ We must not trust 
too much to Oberon’s forgetting our queen’s revenge. He is far 
too shrewd for that, but perchance, by watchfulness, we may find 
him drowsy or sleeping. 11 

Oberon, as Flight had foreseen, was always on his guard. 
Night and day, he wore the horn, fastened to a strong but delicate 
chain about his neck, and was ever followed by Puck, his ancient 
and most trusty attendant. He chuckled as he observed the sly 
movements of Titania’s men. 

“ 0, ho, she thinks she can trick her Oberon, does she ? but 
Oberon will yet prove more than a match, as he has done before, 
for his crafty queen ! 11 

After awhile, however, in spite of his boastful words, the king 
ever so little relaxed his watchfulness. 

Finally, midsummer-night drew near, a time dear to fairies. 
The moon was at its full, and the king and the queen each 
resolved to celebrate it by long revelry. 

Titania longed to please Stella Eosa, and Oberon would 
not be outdone in anything by his queen. At twilight, 
Titania, calling home her messengers, prepared to light up 
her spun-glass palace, and Oberon with his followers whiled the 
hours away in a forest both deep and wide, which was his favor- 
ite haunt, 

Titania’s palace was lovely in the morning ; it was more lovely 
still in the rays of the setting sun, as Stella Eosa had first seen it ; 
but words to describe it would only spoil the dream of its beauty, 
when at night Titania’s attendants had lit up all its fairy lamps. 
Then the light reached out in bars of rainbow colors with every 
shading between, far, far over the grass plats and the gardens, 
and was reflected again in the fountains, until the birds woke in 
wonder and delight ; far out to the forest itself, the scene of my 
story, where Oberon was frisking with his crew. The belated 
mortals who saw it, remarked, “The northern lights are wonder- 


28 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


ful to-night ” ; but Oberon only said, “ How Titania loves all that 
glitter ! but as for me, give me a bosky dell and a merry dance, 
and a mortal or two to play my pranks upon ! ” and went on, 
capering and romping until dawn. 

Dawn came much sooner than he wished, and found him far 
from his palace. As he was wending his way slowly back, for 
dawn always made him drowsy, up jumped the sun above the 
horizon, quite overcoming him with its heat. 

“ I will lie down and rest in this hidden nook,” he said. 

But after he was snugly curled up on a pillow of moss, the 
chain with its dangling horn still felt heavy about his neck. 

u Unfasten the horn, good Puck, and lay the chain in my 
hand ; and go, light creature, over the Moon Mountains with a 
message to the king of the Laughing Goblins. Take this fern leaf 
to him and tell him to meet me at midnight under the tree of 
mirth which stands in the midst of the Talking Wood. Ha, ha ! 
won’t those grotesque gentlemen dance a merry figure when I 
blow my horn ! now hasten and I will seek refuge here from the 
only foe who has ever vanquished me.” 

“ Here comes this way a hurrying wind from the western 
ocean caves. The swiftness of his flight tells me he has 
speedy business on hand. By your leave, not his, I’ll mount his 
shoulders.” 

Then as the forest rustled through all its length with the 
hurrying wind, Puck sprang upon its back and sped away over 
the Moon Mountains. Oberon nestled closer to the mossy bed, 
thinking merely to rest for a few idle moments; but alas ! as the 
sun’s heat grew greater, his drowsiness overcame him, and he 
dropped into slumber. 

Oh, where is Titania now ? where are her watchful spies ? If 
only the smallest and weakest were at hand, the longed-for prize 
might even now be hers ! But Titania, far away, is resting upon 
a dainty couch in her glistening palace, Stella Rosa by her side, 
utterly weary, while upon the maiden’s white lids two tiny sleep 
fairies are perching. The court is carelessly sunk in repose ; and 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


29 


at a hundred leagues’ distance Oberon sleeps, with the chain 
already fallen from his half-opened hand. 

However, if all Fairyland sleeps at this hour, a mortal is 
awake who is to have great influence upon the fortunes of several 
people in this tale, and he now makes his appearance on the 
scene. 




CHAPTER III 


f 



Bold Hans fears neither man nor fairy 
While laughs the broad sunshine: 

In sport like this, good Hans, be wary, 
Lest night's revenge be thine. 


IN a wide clearing on the verge of 
this same forest, dwelt a forester to the 
king, a man of fair fortune, who had two 
joys and only one real care in the world. 
The two joys were his good wife and his 
sunny little daughter, the one care was 
his sons Hans. This boy, like 
Mother Goose's son Jack : 


“Was a well-looking lad, 
Who was not very good 
Nor yet very bad. ” 


Being of an inquir- 
ing turn of 
mind, he was 
always curi- 
ous about 
anything 
but his 
own busi- 
ness, a n d 
greatly 
busy about 
nearly ev- 
erything 
but his own 
proper work. That 
was the way it happened, 


30 



THE HORN OF OBERON 


3L 


I suppose, that he knew the forest better than any man in 
it, not excepting his own father. No one so well as he was 
acquainted with the coverts of the grouse, the nests of the singing 
birds, the hiding places of the squirrel. The most shy and secret 
haunts of flower and plant were his familiar resting-places. On 
this particular morning, having risen before the sun for a ramble, 
in brushing through the copse, he had startled a young brood of 
partridges. He followed to see where the beautiful little creatures 
would hide. Stooping down and peering under where the copse 
was thickest, he suddenly spied Oberon asleep, and near him the 
little horn with its delicate chain. Here was a prize for any lad 
among mortals. Who had ever before found a fairy toy ? Quick 
as lightning he seized the chain, and slipping backward out of the 
copse, was soon hurrying home as fast as his feet would carry 
him. 

Now if Hans had ever stopped to think at all, he would have 
pondered seriously during that homeward scramble. If he did not 
know all about fairies and their habits, as well as their likes and 
dislikes, it was not the fault of his old nurse nor of the other 
servants in his father’s house. He had been told often enough 
how the fairies, while they liked to pry into other people’s con- 
cerns, and make or mar, were much put about if any but their 
favorites took liberties with them. He ought to have known that 
it was wrong and dangerous to steal ; but that it was more than 
dangerous to steal fairy things. Heedless Hans was bent only 
upon his own sport ; and if sport he wanted, he was likely to have 
enough for awhile, at least. When on reaching home, he came up 
the garden walk, his little round, rosy sister Marie was picking 
rose-leaves into a paper-bag. 

“ Look ! see here, Marie ! I’ve found a prize for all of us ! a 
fairy horn ! Why, I shouldn't wonder if the gold would come 
tumbling out upon the ground the minute I blow upon it ! What 
do you think of that? Father needn’t scold me any more for 
not minding my books, and idling, as he calls it, through the 
forest.” 


32 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


“ But Hans, where did you get it ?” asked Marie in round-eyed 
amazement. 

“This morning I stuck my head under some thick bushes, 
and there upon the ground — will you believe me ! — was a fairy 
asleep, and this horn lay by his side. YouTl see, it will bring good 
luck to all of us !” 

“ Oh, Hans, how dared you be so bold ? It may bring evil 
luck to all of us! 1 ’ said Marie, in an awe-struck voice. “But 
then, how do you know it was a fairy ? Fairies are never seen in 
daylight.” 

“How do I know? I’m not a booby; why, there he lay all 
dressed in green, and yet you could see through the green, it was 
so gauzy. I could almost see through him, too, for I caught a 
glimpse of a leafy branch on the other side of him, dark as in a 
colored glass. Oh, he was a beauty, I tell you ! I did not stop to 
look, but I know his hair was all yellow-white about his head 
like a huge crown, and his face was the color of Mother’s big pearl, 
and his cheeks were rosy, and he smiled while he slept.” 

“Couldn’t it have been some nobleman’s child lost in the 
forest ?” 

“ He wasn’t a child at all. And what nobleman’s son was 
ever so light and slender that you could almost see through to the 
moss he lay on ? He was more delicate than wax, I tell you, and 
handsomer than human.” 

“ But I wonder that he let himself be seen.” 

“ So don’t I. I believe he let me see him. Maybe he knows 
me, because I am so much in the wood.” 

But the surmise of over-confident Hans was wide of the truth. 
The fact was, his frolicsome Majesty, King Oberon, had, for the 
first time in his life, been caught napping. He had cast aside his 
cap of darkness the night before, while he was pranking around, 
and forgotten to put it on at daylight. He had sent all his train 
on before him except Puck, when they might have stayed to 
guard him, and then he had let the sun catch him lingering. 
The fierce king of day was only too glad to overpower this moon- 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


33 


shine king, and expose him to any careless eye that might discover 
his hiding place. 

“ But you must have offended him now. Perhaps some of the 
fairies are near us while we are talking,” and Marie glanced tim- 
idly around her, “ and they might bring great misfortune to us 
because you have taken it.” 

“ Oh, never you fear ! girls are always afraid of something ! 
Why, you don’t think that gauze-green, waxy little beau could hurt 
us, do you \ I don’t believe fairies can hurt a human, anyway, 
they’re too spare. But just look at this, Marie.” 

Emboldened by her brother’s words, Marie drew nearer. They 
turned the toy over and over, and laughed at the laughing faces 
engraved upon it. Hans put it upside down and shook it, but 
nothing fell out. Then fixing it to his lips, he made a few vain 
attempts to blow upon it, and at last began to catch the trick of 
the music. 

“ Ah, now I’ve got it ; now, Marie, just hold your bag under 
while I blow, so that we won’t lose any of the gold.” 

Marie, obedient but trembling with excitement, took her place 
just in front of him, holding wide the mouth of the bag. Hans 
began to blow gently. No gold fell out, but Marie felt her feet 
twitching with an odd desire to dance. 

“ Marie, keep still, can’t you \ you’ll spill all the gold if you 
jump about so.” 

“ But, Hans, no gold has come out yet, and I couldn’t help it,” 
said Marie, piteously. 

“Well now,” said Hans, preparing for a greater effort, “I’ll 
blow harder, and you try again to hold the bag right under the 
horn.” 

Puffing out his cheeks and puckering his lips, Hans threw 
back his head and blew and blew. 

Ah, how strong, beautiful and clear poured out the fairy notes ! 
Marie tripped merrily up and down the garden walk as Hans blew 
faster and faster. He looked for a shower of gold , until at last 
it flashed through his mind what was the secret power of the 


34 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


horn. As he paused to burst into a roar of laughter, Marie fell 
breathless upon the sward. 

u He, he, he ! it was as good as a whole bag of gold to see you 
jump ! ha, ha, ha ! "Why, the dancing master will have easy work, 
now, for I’ll get you into training with the help of the horn. Oh, 
youTl see, 141 have rare sport ! Never mind, Marie, if we don’t 
get rich, we’ll stir up every soul and body within the bounds of 
this forest, or my name isn’t Hans ! Here comes Father ; I’ll try 
it next on him.” 

“ Hans ! how can you ?” 

But the bugle was already at his lips, and the undutiful boy 
blew out a blast which sent both his father and Marie tripping 
around the garden ; but the father, whose limbs had not capered 
so briskly since his boyhood, soon found out the cause of their 
unwonted antics. The justly angry parent gradually grew nearer 
to Hans, and watching his chance, gave him a vigorous box on the 
ear, which stopped the dancing and music together, and sent 
Hans rolling on the grass. 

“ You rascal ! what elf’s prank are you playing on me? Bring 
me that witch’s horn this moment, and take yourself off to 
your work ! This is what comes of your idle freaks and rambles, 
is it? Come here, or I’ll make you dance to another tune that 
you won’t forget for awhile !” 

Well it was for Hans that his father’s anger was so short- 
lived, and his heart so easily filled with the magic of the horn. 
Ere he had finished speaking, the twinkles began to appear in 
his kindly eyes, and before Hans had reached him, a broad smile 
spread itself over his face. 

“ Please, Father, don’t take away the horn,” pleaded Hans. 
“ I found it early this morning, by the side of a sleeping fairy. 
I thought it would bring us riches, and I didn’t know there was 
fun in it until I saw Marie dance. I’m sorry I made you dance, 
too, but if you will please not take it away, I’ll never blow it 
anywhere near you again.” 

“ See that you don’t, you young rogue; and now be off, take 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


85 


it back where you found it and leave it there, do you hear me ? 
— Come here, Hans,” he continued, as he saw that Hans 1 eager 
feet were longing to get away from that hard command — “ come 
here. I cannot permit you to keep this stolen toy. The fairies 
would vent their rage upon you and upon us all, perhaps. 
Besides, there would be no more work or study to be had from you, 
except at the end of a rod. Not a word — go this instant and take 
it back.” 

Without waiting for another permission, Hans scampered 
away. Hardy and active woodman as he was, he soon put miles 
between himself and his home, plunging ever deeper into the 
forest. But oh ! naughty, disobedient Hans ! this is not the way 
to the copse where you found the fairy horn ! did not your 
father command you to return it, lest evil come upon you ? If 
you could look into the future, how you would hasten to obey 
him ! 

Now Hans, like many other children large and small, meant 
to obey when his father spoke. But after he had hurried awhile 
through the forest, his pace grew slower; he paused, and a sudden 
grin widened his saucy face. Then he started on again, almost 
at a run, until he approached a retired glen in the densest part 
of the forest. 



CHAPTER IV 


IN the glen was 
a lowly cottage, or 
rather, a hut, and in 
the hut dwelt a lonely 
man. The few cot- 
tagers who lived near 
enough to sometimes 
meet him, said he had 
never smiled. For years 
he lived alone in that 
forsaken spot. At first, wild 
stories about him had crept 
around among the cottagers. He 
was thought by some to he a crim- 
inal hiding from law — a murderer, 
perhaps, they said with a shudder. Or 
he might have the evil eye, or be in league 
with the devil — and the children were warned 
never to wander near his cottage. However, 

36 


A “ gentle hermit of the 
vale,” 

But sad and all forlorn , 
Until he hears the boister- 
ous notes 

Of Oberon’s bugle horn. 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


37 


as time went on, and he showed no desire to blight their crops 
or to mar their children, they began to feel more kindly toward 
him. 

Finally, one day, a little child strayed from home into the 
depths of the forest, and was wandering about, crying piteously, 
when she was met by the hermit. Taking her tenderly in his 
arms, he left the wood and walked from cottage to cottage, until he 
found her parents and restored to them their lost darling. From 
that time, the people were thoroughly won to him, and would 
have shown him much kindness if he had not withdrawn himself 
from their attentions. When strangers approached his cottage, 
he would look at them so sternly that they were glad to turn and 
go another way. Then he would sigh and shake his head sadly, 
as if to say: 

“ No, no ! it is not for me ! ’•’ 

During the years which lie had spent in the lonely glen, his 
beard had grown until it hung long over his breast. His face was 
pale and thin, but the brightness of his eyes gleamed like stars 
out of a white mist. 

Now, when that marplot, Hans, left his father’s presence in 
such haste, he took, as we know, the path which led to the 
hermit’s glen. He had persuaded himself that it would do no 
harm to try the power of the horn once more before returning it 
to its owner. As he bounded along through the copses and 
between the majestic old trees, he did not turn aside, as usual, to 
chase a squirrel or to cut a hazel wand. The squirrels chattered 
at him, but he did not heed them; the mother birds fluttered 
along before him as he came near, to coax him from those shy, 
sweet nests which contained all their treasures ; but Hans brushed 
by without stopping. He had better sport on hand. Every little 
while he bent down with hands upon his knees to burst into 
shouts of laughter. 

“Ha, ha, ha! the crazy old hermit! Won’t I lead you a 
pretty jig, sir?” 

The poor hermit was naturally the game of thoughtless, 


38 


A FA IKY NIGHT’S DREAM 


mischevioiis Hans. Such youths find their greatest sport in 
tormenting the odd or unfortunate. Hans had often met the 
hermit in the forest, and had, ere this, played many idle tricks 
upon him, such as carrying off Ins only pig, and turning it loose 
to make its own way in the wood; or mounting a hideous scarecrow 
at his gate; or stretching a branch of the wild grape across his 
path to trip him up. He had been restrained from going into the 
cottage, only by a wholesome fear of getting within reach of the 
hermit’s sinewy arm. But now he could command a new pas- 
time— a sport which would not only keep him out of the hermit’s 
way, but in its tormenting power was far beyond any clumsy con- 
trivance of his own. 

Upon arriving in the glen, he cautiously drew near the cot- 
tage, peering through the thicket to see if its inmate was in sight. 
Yes, there he was, slowly pacing his little garden with his head 
bent sadly upon his breast. Sometimes, as he paused, he would 
sigh and shake his head. Hans placed himself snugly amidst the 
bushes, and putting the horn to his lips, began to blow. The her- 
mit paused a moment, startled and wondering, and looked wildly 
around. 

What magic strain is this? Once before he has heard its 
alluring notes, when youth was bright, and happiness seemed so 
near — just waiting to be grasped. How well he recalls that even- 
ing ! But the charm had already seized him, and slowly, unwill- 
ingly, his feet began to move. His joints, to which such joyous 
exercise had been strangers for years, almost creaked with the 
lively motion ; but as Hans blew louder and faster, away he went, 
as trippingly as an elf by moonlight. The charm entered his 
arms, which he flung wildly above him, and his head flew from 
side to side so that the long beard tossed in the wind ; and oh! at 
last, the magic seized his heart, and he began to laugh — gently at 
first, then louder, and still louder, as Hans blew fast and furiously, 
until the tears rolled down his cheeks, and all the sorrow and bit- 
terness seemed to flow out with them and sink in the blessed soil 
of mother earth. 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


30 


But when Hans, for lack of breath, changed the strain to a 
gentler measure, the hermit, dancing more slowly, began to sing 
to the rollicking music of the wonderful horn ; and these were the 
words, as near as Hans could catch them while he blew: 

An old crow sat in ail owlet’s nest, 

Oho, oho ! 

The wind blew east and the wind blew west, 

Oho! 

The owl he said to that very black crow, 

If you don’t get out, I’ll make you go, 

I own this humble nest. 

The owl he took his violin, 

Alas, alas ! 

He scraped the bow with rough rosin, 

Alas ! 


He drew the bow, that old black crow 
Danced round the owl’s nest, high and low, 

Till gasping hard, he cried, “ I’ll go, 

Oh, stop and let me pass ! ” 

Up to this time, Hans had restrained his laughter and devoted 
himself to his part of the sport. But at the last words of the song 
he forgot all else, and his pent-up merriment burst its bounds. 

“ He, he he ! ” he tittered, and stopped blowing. The hermit 
also stopped, and looking round, spied the boy behind the bushes. 
Without a word, he turned and walked out into his cottage. 
There, with his arms resting on the rough table, and his head 
bowed over them, he sat for hours, while a torrent of healing, 
blessed tears flowed without check. 

Memories of childhood and youth were coming back to him 
in a flood. He saw the village where he was born, with its bright, 
flower-dotted meadows. He saw his mother’s face, his father’s 


40 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


sturdy, upright form. So wonderful was the power of the horn 
that he heard the shouts of his playmates, joyous, frank and 
boisterous. But whose face is this, shining, as it seems, through 
a golden mist ? The face of one whom he had loved in those far- 
off days, the round, rosy, innocent face of a child. 

As he seemed to gaze at the face, it grew older, and became 
the visage of a young girl, saucy and beautiful. He was chasing 
her through the flower-lit meadows, and her long braids were 
tossing about her as she flew before him. And then, the face 
was turned away, and the long braids were coiled about the head, 
for the girl had grown into a tall maiden, and he was walking by 
her side through the shady lanes. 

Late at night, he sought his hard couch, and falling into 
quiet slumber, lie dreamed again the dreams of youth. 

When he woke from this refreshing sleep, he found himself 
longing for human friends and companions. 

“Dear Walden!” he exclaimed, “how could I have been so 
hard, so mistaken, as to stay all these years away from my own 
native village ? And Elsie and Fritz and the others — I hope they are 
there still, and 1 know they would welcome me back again. But 
Gertrude! Well, I was never tender and thoughtful enough. It 
was cruel in me to urge her into a marriage which perhaps she 
shunned ; alas! I shall not find 7 ter in Walden — she is gone, for- 
ever gone ! ” 

For a moment he was sad again, but soon brightening, he 
continued: 

“But yet, the old home is there, and how I long for it!” 
reaching his arms yearningly into empty air. “ I will return this 
very day. I feel so young and hopeful this morning. I will begin 
life all over, and be happy again.” 

He gathered together the few possessions in that humble place 
which he cared to take with him. It was with a sigh as well as a 
smile that he closed the door of the cottage that had been his 
home for nearly ten years, glancing as he did so at the rose vine 
which was clambering over the roof. As the door swung to. it 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


41 


struck a long branch, which showered down upon him a wealth of 
petals. He smiled as he said: 

u The climbing rose blooms more richly this year than ever 
before for ungrateful me, who am leaving it never to return .’ 1 

And then he sighed, as he whispered: 

“If Gertrude’s hand could have been here to train the vine, 
what sweeter spot could have been found for a home ? ” 

He turned away and tramped sturdily toward the highway. 

“ Home, home ! ” he said. “ The home where my mother’s 
eye smiled upon me, and where my father taught me how to grow 
up useful and honorable ; I am going to my true home now, my 
dear old village, Walden ! ” 



TO 


CHAPTER V 




Sweet Mother Gertrude now 
draws near, 

With hand to soothe , with smile 
to cheer. 


“ COME, Mother Gertrude, now 
at last please tell us about yourself. 
We want to know the story of your 
life. You must have had some ad- 
ventures and one lover, at least, before 
you came to live with us. Now tell us, 
won’t you, why it is you have never 
married, like other girls? We see you 
are still beautiful enough, even now.” 

The young woman 
addressed as “ Mother 
Gertrude,” sighed in- 
stead of blushing, and 
her nimble fingers 
paused among 
the osiers 
she was 
weaving in- 
to a basket, 
“Let me 
first see if 
there is time 
enough be- 


42 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


43 


fore Miette comes from school. Poor little Mouse, she is not old 
enough yet to be saddened by all the story of my life. She weeps 
so bitterly when I speak about her own dear mamma, that I do 
not talk of these things when she is near.” 

u There is time enough yet, dear Mother Gertrude. It will 
be two hours before Little Mouse can get home from school.” 

“Yes, yes! thereTl be time enough; and if not, you can 
easily finish it to-morrow.” 

“No, no, to-day, to-day! — we want to hear it all now; you 
know you promised us six months ago, naughty Mother Ger- 
trude !” 

A group of lively and busy girls, all chattering together, 
surrounded Mother Gertrude. They were sitting on low stools 
about her feet, among the osiers, each weaving in and out the 
slender withes. They made a picture pretty enough to adorn 
even her cheerful cottage. 

The time was nearly two months earlier than the exploit of 
Hans with the hermit, as told in the last chajAer. It was even 
a month before the day when Stella Eosa had taken Miette for 
a sister and then left her to visit the court of the fairy queen. 
Mother Gertrude had not yet gone to the village of Stella Eosa 
with Miette. Her home was at the edge of a large and busy 
town, big and busy enough to call itself a city. The plain in 
which it stood was wide enough to hold more than one city 
without crowding, as well as slow-moving barges along gliding 
rivers, and brooks pattering through happy villages. Far away, 
upon the distant edge of the plain began the great forest where 
Oberon spent his nights, where the hermit sighed his time away, 
and Hans loitered and found mischief to do. Midway between 
the city and the forest was a hollow in the plain, scooped out like 
a great basin, and filled with brooks, trees and singing birds. 
Here was the village of Stella Eosa. 

Mother Gertrude had lived for ten years at the edge of the 
bustling city in the midst of grateful and loving friends, yet 
she was a lonely woman except for her little Miette, and all her 


44 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 

friends longed to know the reason why. So far she had not told 
them, although she had made many half promises to the inquir- 
ing maids. To-day they united in promising to be very industri- 
ous if she would tell her story, and their hands flew in and out 
among the bending withes. 

“See,” said one, holding up a half-finished basket, “We are 
just as busy as even you could wish, Mother Gertrude. Now I 
know that at last you will tell us the story.” 

“ Oh, yes, go on, go on, we want the story,” they all exclaimed 
in chorus. 

“ I don’t like to tell all my story, because I am ashamed to 
confess my girlish follies. Ah !” she sighed again, “ I have been 
well punished for them ! but if you really would like to hear ” 

“ Of course we would,” broke in a bright-eyed maid, “ and 
don’t forget the love parts. We are all interested in them.” 

“ I could not tell you much about my life without the story 
of my lover — it begins so far back,” Mother Gertrude said, 
smiling. “ But there is one other strange thing beside, I must 
relate to you; the very strangest thing that ever happened to me.” 

“Then go on, Mother Gertrude, we are listening.” 

“Many years ago, as it seems to me now, I was a gay, 
light-hearted, light-footed village girl. People told me then that my 
eyes were sparkling and bright like sunshine on water, but if so, 
I need not be vain of it now, for tears have washed all the bright- 
ness away.” 

“ Oh, no, Mother Gertrude, not all. They are bright now like 
the first stars before the darkness, and the love is not washed 
out of them at all.” 

“ Eight next to my grandmother’s cottage where I had lived 
since the father and mother died, was the home of my playmate, 
Christoph. He was three years older, but he never seemed to think 
himself too old or too manly to be my companion. From the 
time I was a very little girl, he helped to take care of me, and we 
used to wander through the meadow and the wood like brother 
and sister. When we grew to be older, he would sometimes say : 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


45 


u 1 Gertrude dear, remember, you are to be my little wife when 
you grow up — you have promised, you know,’ — and I would reply, 

14 4 Of course, Chris, whose wife should I be but yours ? I 
would not think of marrying any one else. I don’t know anybody 
so well as you.’ 

44 4 But there mustn’t be any one you shall love as well as I, 
Gertrude.’ 

44 Then I would laugh and toss my braids (I was very vain of 
them then, because they were long and glossy) ” 

44 They would be so now, Mother Gertrude, if you didn’t keep 
them out of sight, under that absurd old cap.” 

44 Never mind the cap. Don’t rumple it, please, with your em- 
braces, and let me go on. I would say to Christoph, 

44 4 Oh, I love you well enough, Chris, don’t bother me 
about it.’ 

44 After a few years, Christoph did not speak to me any more 
about it, but he would sometimes gaze at me with such a deep look 
in his eyes, it troubled me a little ; and if any of the other lads 
talked or danced with me, he would look so black ! I didn’t like 
worry of any kind, and to trouble my head about the future, or to 
think of our being any different from what we were, did not suit 
me at all. 

44 When I was just seventeen, however, Christoph’s uncle sent 
for him to go and work on his farm, promising if he did well, he 
should be helped to make a start in life. Then Christoph asked 
me in earnest to pledge myself to him, and I gave him my 
promise. 

44 Soon after, the people began to talk about a war between 
our king and the king of the neighboring country. Our village, 
Walden, was right near the borders, and the other king wanted 
Walden and other towns and a long strip of country for his own. 
So our king, who wasn’t of a mind to let the other have us and 
our pastures and woods, sent a big army of soldiers right down 
into our country. A company of them was quartered at Walden. 
The soldiers soon became acquainted with our people, and were 


46 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


very pleasant to all the maidens. There was one soldier among 
them who looked at me a great deal, and would bow very low 
whenever I met him. He was some kind of an officer, I think, 
for he had gold lace on his uniform.” 

44 What was the name of the handsome soldier ?” 

44 He told me after awhile that his name was Ordolf. One 
afternoon, while I was going home from a visit to a friend who 
lived in the edge of the forest, I met him face to face. 

“ 1 Beautiful Gertrude ! ’ he said, taking off his tall hat and 
bowing very low, 4 will you allow me to walk with you the rest of 
the way ? ’ 

“I blushed and smiled and finally said ‘yes.’ When we 
reached grandmother’s cottage, he asked if he might go in. 

44 4 You may come in, Sir Soldier,’ I replied, 4 but I do not 
know if you may stay, for my grandmother is not fond of soldiers, 
and she might not make you welcome.’ 

44 k Then, lovely maiden, may I walk with you another day ? ’ 

44 4 Perhaps,’ I answered saucily, 4 if we should happen to be 
walking the same way.’ 

44 For many weeks after that, I would meet Ordolf when I 
walked in the village. It was not long before he told me he loved 
me, and wished to make me his bride. 

44 4 But I cannot, good Ordolf,’ I would say, 4 1 am promised to 
another.’ 

44 4 Is charming Gertrude content to be the wife of a country 
churl, who knows nothing but to dig in the ground for a living, 
and can only give her a bare cottage for a home ? ’ 

4 4 4 You are wronging Christoph,’ I would reply, 4 to say he 
doesn’t know anything. Before he went away he had learned all 
that the schoolmaster could teach him, and I have heard that his 
uncle where he lives trusts him very much.’ 

44 But still, though I spoke out for my betrothed, I did not refuse 
to listen to Ordolf. So finally, it was commonly reported in the 
village that I had forsaken my old friend for the handsome 
soldier. 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


47 


“ It was about this time that the enemy’s king made up his 
mind to send an army to the border. We were all very much 
frightened, and every one who knew where to go hurried away 
from the village. My grandmother was at her wits’ end. We 
could not stay there, she said, and she was old and had no friends 
far away whom we could seek in our trouble. 

“ 1 If it were not for the grandchild, the old woman might 
stay and die, if need be, but what would become of my pretty 
Gertrude ( ’ 

“ In the midst of our distress, Ordolf, the soldier, came to see 
my grandmother. 

“ ‘ If you will give me this pretty girl for my wife,’ he said, 

‘ you shall be taken care of. To-morrow the ladies of the castle 
go with an escort to the walled town of Bergen. I am to com- 
mand the squad, and in the company I can find a place for you 
and Gertrude. Let your granddaughter go with me early in the 
morning to be married, and all will be well. You shall live safely 
in Bergen until the enemy is well out of the way and the war is 
over. Then I will take care of you both.’ 

“ ‘ What say you, my child, will you marry him ? ’ 

“‘I cannot, Granny, I am pledged to Christoph,’ I said in 
distress. 

“ ‘ But after all, a soldier is a better man in time of war than 
a farmer,’ muttered my grandmother. ‘ Child, there is no other 
way, we must accept his offer. Christoph is far from here and 
cannot help us. And if he were here, what could he do ? 

“ I shed a few tears while my grandmother and the soldier 
were pleading with me, but at last I said ‘yes.’ It was very weak 
and wrong in me, I know. Ordolf went away to make everything 
ready for the marriage and our departure. 

“ But that night, I sat in my little room, weeping bitterly and 
thinking of Christoph, good, kind Christoph, to whom I had been 
so false. Suddenly, I said to myself through my tears: 

“ ‘ I cannot, forsake him, my old friend, whom I love best after 
all. I will not marry Ordolf. I will go and find Christoph.’ 


48 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


“ I roused my grandmother in the darkness and begged her 
to go with me to the place where Christoph was living. We had 
neither of us been more than a few miles from the village in our 
lives, and did not know anything about the way, except that it 
lay through the forest. Dear granny yielded to my pleadings and 
hastily gathered together a few clothes, some food, and the money 
she had been saving for me. I left a letter for Ordolf, telling him 
of my resolution, and we set out toward the forest. 

“ Granny was strong for her age and vigorous, so we walked 
at a good pace, carrying our bundles. Just as we reached the 
wood the moon rose, so that it was not very dark. We found a 
smooth road, and I felt that every step was taking us nearer to 
Christoph. Suddenly, after we had been walking a long while, 
and were in the depths of the forest, I saw a curious light flicker- 
ing before us. As I watched it, it would grow bright, then seem 
to go out altogether, and again, after a moment, flash up nearer 
and brighter than before. 

“ ‘ Look, Granny, do you see that strange light ? What can it 
mean ? ’ 

“ 4 Mean, child ? It means elves or wicked fairies, and danger 
of some kind, I don’t know what. Oh, I wish I were safe back in 
my bed ! I’d rather die there, if die I must, than in this strange 
place, with all kinds of dreadful things around in the shadows ! ’ 
and my grandmother turned as if to go back. 

“•‘Oh, Granny,’ I said, bursting into tears, ‘let us not go 
back ! , Surely the way before us is no worse than that which we 
have passed ! ’ 

“ While we stood trembling and in doubt a sudden strain of 
tiny music started up, so near us it seemed right at my elbow. It 
was so bright, so merry and rollicking, that before we knew it, we 
began to dance like children. Then the light and the music 
started on together before us, and we followed in spite of our- 
selves, holding tight to our bundles, and dancing away around 
and around in a maze of curious figures. The light and the music 
kept leading us farther from the path into the forest, but we could 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


49 


not stop. My grandmother, who a little while before had been so 
sad and fearful, laughed like a girl, swinging her bundle around 
her head and tossing it about her. How long we went on I can- 
not tell, for we had forgotten everything but the fun of the 
moment. 

“ But everything must come to an end, and so did our mad 
race. We had reached an open space in the forest, when suddenly 
the music drew off into the distance and ceased. When we 
stopped and looked about us, dawn was reddening the lowest 
sky, giving us light enough to see before us a low cottage, with 
its door standing wide open. We went to it, and looking in, saw 
a bed of straw in the corner. My grandmother, tired out, sank 
upon it, and I soon laid myself beside her and fell asleep. 

u When I woke, much refreshed, the sun was high. I found a 
spring near by, from which I brought water for our breakfast. 
Some berries I found on bushes outside the door, with barley 
bread, made us a good meal. Then I called my grandmother, 
and we ate at the rough table in the corner. After we had rested 
awhile longer, we made up our bundles again, and started on our 
journey. We walked a long while through the forest that day 
before we came to a road. Soon after we found the wood getting 
thinner and the trees farther apart, with frequent open spaces. 
Then in the distance we caught sight of fields. 

“ 4 See, Granny,’ I exclaimed, very glad but weary, 1 we shall 
get somewhere before long ! I shouldn’t wonder if those fields 
were sown by Christoph’s own hand. How bright they look in 
the setting sun ! ’ 

“ Soon after we came to the edge of the forest and by that 
time the sun was down. A hut stood near the wood a little way 
from us. We went to it, and found there an old woman, a fagot 
gatherer, who made us welcome, but did not know anything 
about Christoph. The next morning we started across the plain, 
traveling slowly along, and inquiring at every hamlet and farm- 
house for my betrothed. It seemed as if I could not rest until I 
found him, but we never heard the least word about him. The 


50 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


people were kind to us, and took us in at night, not often asking 
anything in return for food and shelter. Then one day my grand- 
mother began to be ill. I was frightened, thinking she might not 
be able to get to a place of shelter, but she kept up until we reached 
this town, and I found a cottage empty, as if waiting for us. 
What happened then you know.” 

“ Poor Mother Gertrude ! and did you never hear from 
Christoph ? ” 

“Never a word. My grandmother was so ill, I could not 
leave her until her death. Then, when I thought again of start- 
ing to seek for Christoph, my loneliness frightened me, and I 
said to myself, 

“ ‘ I could not find him when I tried so hard, but sometime 
he will find me, I know, for Christoph will never forget me. I 
will stay right here and wait for him, and when he comes, he 
shall find me expecting him.’ 

“ So here I have waited ever since, but still he does not 
come. I have grown sad, I think, and weary, and sometimes 
imagine that he has forgotten me after all. But I am not so 
unhappy as I might be, if you were not all so very, very kind.” 

“ Kind, dear Mother Gertrude ? It is you who are kind to us. 
How could we help loving you when we know you are such an 
angel of goodness to all the poor and the sick, that the whole 
neighborhood calls you 4 mother 1 ? 

“ And now you are teaching us to weave these pretty baskets 
so that we may lay aside money for our dowries.” 

“ But you haven’t told us how you came by little Miette. ’ 

“ Yes, I must tell you that, for it finishes my story. — I was 
so lonely after Grandmother died, that when my day’s work was 
done, I used to visit the sick who were poor, or had few friends to 
care for them. One day I heard of a sick woman with a child, 
lying neglected in a miserable house not far from my home. In 
the evening I visited her and took with me some nourishing soup. 
By the dim light I saw a wasted form upon the couch, but what 
was my amazement when I heard her whisper , 4 Gertrude, don’t 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


51 


you know me ?’ Looking closer, my heart almost stood still when 
I saw that she was Christoph’s sister ! Christoph’s sister, Elsie, 
who was married a few months before we were driven out of 
Walden ! She shed tears of joy at seeing me, and then told me 
her sad tale. How her husband had become separated from her, 
in the desertion of the village, and she had wandered, seeking him, 
as I had sought Christoph, all in vain. How after these long 
months, she had come with her baby, little Miette, still searching 
for him, to this place, and had been taken down with the fever 
and lay helpless and dying. Oh, how I worked to bring her back 
to life ! But after a few days, she passed away, leaving the baby, 
our little Miette, to my care until her father should be found. 
Now you know all my story and Miette’s, and how I have come 
to be, what your love has named me, ‘ Mother Gertrude.’ ” 

“ Just look !” suddenly exclaimed one of the girls who sat 
near the window. “ A man with a pack upon his back is knock- 
ing at the door. He must be a peddler.” 

“A peddler!” exclaimed the girls, dropping their baskets in 
excitement. “Oh, please, Mother Gertrude, do invite him in! 

We want to buy some ribbons and bodice lacings and ” 

But by this time Mother Gertrude was opening the door with 
an indulgent smile upon her face. 

The girls saw her smile change to a look of uncertainty — then 
of recognition. 

“ It must be — it surely is — Giebel ! ” she exclaimed. 
“Gertrude! can that be little Gertrude ?” said the peddler. 
“Oh, Giebel, how glad I am to see you! now I shall hear 
from home.” 

* * * * * * * 

The voice of Mikterenos had gradually been growing fainter 
and farther away until it ceased altogether. At that point she 
twitched her head around toward me so suddenly that my eyes, 
which had somehow got themselves shut, flew open. 

“Asleep, were you? and actually snoring!” she exclaimed, 
rising from the floor in high dudgeon. “Well, if you don’t care 


52 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


to hear my story, I’ll tell some one else, but you’ll be sorry, you’ll 
be sorry !” 

She lifted her staff, shook it at me, and flitted in an offended 
way toward the door, at each step setting her sharp heels against 
the floor with a click. Her anger alarmed me so much, that I 
roused myself to make my peace with her. 

“ I sincerely beg your pardon, your Serenity,” I hastened to 
say. “ I did not mean it, indeed. The heat of the room, I think, 
made me drowsy.” 

“The heat of the room!” she snapped, “Why, the room has 
been chilly and cold for the last half hour, and I have been shiver- 
ing awfully and growing dull, in consequence. That fire has 
been getting very low.” 

“Oh, yes, certainly! That is what I meant, Madam Miktere- 
nos — the cold it was which made me fall asleep. I was really 
deeply interested. Pray go on with your story.” 

“ Well,” said Mikterenos more mildly, “ If the cold has put you 
to sleep, we can soon mend that.” 

“She again approached the fire, and again plunged her staff 
into the coals. Up shot the ambient, iridescent light, and again 
my brain whirled with the whirling figures. 

She stretched her hands toward the blaze as if to warm them, 
and then thrust in the magic staff a second time, muttering to 
herself as she stirred the coals. 

“ Yes, yes ! so much heat as it takes to keep the fancy burn- 
ing ! so much heat to warm again the memory of the times wdiich 
have passed away ! the old world has grown cold — so cold ! ” 

The flames as they roared up the chimney changed from 
deep red to glowing pink, and the glow, expanding until it 
filled the room, wrapped the old fairy as if in a shimmering 
mantle of rose. 

“Ha, ha! cold, did I say? it has turned cold to the fairy race, 
all except Titania ; and she, poor queen, learned so much love 
from the mortals whom she kept with her, that she is always 
longing to come back and share it with them. Cold ? not while 


TIIE HORN OF OBEEON 


53 


brothers and sisters walk with arms twined about each other’s 
necks; and mothers kiss their sleeping babies ; and old friends like 
Christoph and Gertrude are still true;- — oh, how this lovely heat- 
cloak warms me through and through ! now I can go on and tell 
the story of Christoph and Gertrude.” 








CHAPTER VI 


Enchanted wood! shall Christoph 
stay 

Within your haunted depths for aye , 
To drag a gloomy life away? 


IT will 1)6 needful for me to 
go back ten years, in order to 
take up and weave in the unfin- 
ished threads of Gertrude’s story. 
On the day that Gertrude and 
her grandmother were finding 
their way out of the enchanted wood, 
Christoph had started from his uncle’s 
farm to seek his sweetheart. His path 
lay through the forest, and just as Ger- 

54 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


55 

trude, utterly misled by the fairy horn, was leaving it in one 
direction, he was entering it from the other. It is certain that 
if Oberon had not waylaid the luckless girl, she would have met 
the lover whom she was seeking. 

Nightfall came, but too much in haste to wait for dawn, 
Christoph pressed on. Near midnight, he came within the magic 
circle which had wrought such distress to Gertrude and her grand- 
mother. Oberon was, there, and Puck had already brought the 
news of Christoph’s approach to his master. 

“ This is the lover of the slender lass who tripped to such a 
merry measure over these paths last night. What is your will, 
good master ? Shall I lead him astray from his maiden, and 
bewilder him in the forest ?. ” 

“ Oh, keep him out of the lass's way, by all means. It’s no 
pastime for me to unite wandering lovers. Leave that to Titania. 
It would please her better than I wish, to bring them together. Is 
the girl well out of the forest?” 

“ Yes, your Majesty. No trace of her has been seen since 
fairies were abroad to-night.” 

“Ha, ha!” laughed Oberon, “a sprightlier dancer I never 
saw, strong and limber and lithe ! and that old crone ! My pretty 
bugle put life into her stiff limbs. Come, my precious,” he con- 
tinued, lifting the horn and patting it with immense satisfaction, 
“ we’ll give the lover a taste of the same hearty exercise ! Do you, 
good Puck, summon all my attendants. Will-o-the-wisp, light 
your lantern ; here he comes — now ready — away ! ” 

“ Whither, your Majesty ? ” 

“ Lead him over the same path his lass’s feet pattered so 
lightly last night. Leave him at the cottage at dawn, but mind 
you, don’t set him on her traces. Now pipe up, merry horn ! ” 

Up piped the merry horn, and up jumped Will-o-the-wisp, 
swinging his lantern hither and yon ; and Oberon blew with 
might and main, and Puck with wings outspread, perched with 
one foot on Christoph’s shoulder, and sang saucy rhymes in his 
ear. If the good armorer who gave the horn to the world could 


5G 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


have known how careless Oberon was with it bringing only pain 
and grief to Christoph, he would have left out of its composition 
the sharp, glistening filings which made mischief, and left only 
the silver and gold. 

But then it would have been of much less use to His Royal 
Mischievousness, King Oberon. 

When the first faint light of dawn appeared, Christoph, whom 
the notes of the horn had led astray all night, found himself, as 
Gertrude had done the night before, near the cottage with its open 
door. Away went Oberon to seek shelter from the heat of the 
day, and away went the horn. Christoph entered the cottage, 
little supposing that it had the night before given shelter to his 
sweetheart. Lying upon the pile of straw, he, too, slept until the 
sun was high in the heavens. 

After a breakfast from the lunch stored in his wallet, he again 
started on his way, and before night, was on the highroad to 
Walden. 

When Christoph, the next day, drew near the village, he found 
it almost deserted. The troops had marched against the enemy, 
and the frightened people, feeling that their last stay was gone, 
had fled to places which were supposed to be safer. He went at 
once to Gertrude’s cottage, but looked in vain for his love. As he 
was leaving, overcome with doubt and fear at not finding her, he 
met a decrepit and deserted old woman, too infirm to travel, who 
was hobbling along on her cane. 

“So, so! he’s found the cage, but the pretty bird has flown. 
She liked the gay plumage of the handsome soldier better than 
his sober coat.” 

“What do you mean, dame? My Gertrude knew no soldier; 
oh, speak and tell me where she is, if you know, or I shall go mad ! ” 

“Not so fast, good Christoph! How should the lame old 
raven know where the young bird with strong limbs has flown? 
But every one knew she was to marry the handsome soldier, and 
when they both went on the same day, how could any one think 
but that they went together? ” 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


57 


“I do not believe it ! How dare you say my Gertrude, my 
little girl, has forsaken me for a soldier ? I do not believe it, I tell 
you ! ” he almost shrieked. “ You are taunting me because she is 
lost — gone, perhaps, to find me ! ” 

He strode past her, and raced up and down the street like 
mad. He ran in and out among the empty houses, calling 
“ Gertrude, Gertrude ! ” in a frenzy of despair, but he was an- 
swered only by the echoing walls. He entered Gertrude’s cot- 
tage. It was empty except for the confusion left by a raid 
of lawless soldiery. He looked out of the window, where she 
so often sat with him, into the little garden, but could see 
nothing, outside or in, but hideous disorder. After a time, when 
he became calmer, he met Fritz, his dearest friend, who had 
returned for some household goods. Without greeting him, 
Christoph began: 

“ What has become of my Gertrude? I went to her home to 
find her, but she is gone, and that lying beldame says she has left 
me for a soldier ! ” 

u Christoph, dear Christoph, old friend ! what can I say? I’m 
sorry to give you pain, but I’m afraid it is true. Ordolf, the 
corporal, has been seen very often with her of late, and two 
nights ago her grandmother called to me to say good-bye, and told 
me Gertrude was going to marry the soldier in the morning, and 
then they were to leave under his protection to stay until the war 
was over.”. 

“ Fritz, if this is true, and true it must be because you say so, 
oh, my pretty, precious girl ! Why, we grew up together, and I 
loved her better than any one else, all my life long. If I could 
only find that soldier ! Oh, Fritz ! I am but a farmer, but I can 
shoot straight enough ” 

“ Christoph, would you harm Gertrude’s husband ?” 

“ Ah, I forgot ! true, he is her husband, and more, a defender 
of our country. No, I can do nothing — nothing. I would not 
injure a hair of her head, and I would not injure him for her sake. 
Oh, Fritz, old friend, I have lost my faith in mankind ! from this 


58 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


time on, I will never love nor believe in anything again. Ger- 
trude false ! why doesn't the sun turn black ?” 

“ Christoph, dear fellow, don’t talk so wildly. There are many 
true hearts in the world yet. I would do all I could to comfort 
you, and so would your other friends.” 

Christoph shook his head sadly. “ But oh, this pain at my 
heart! you cannot heal that;” and he turned wearily away. 
Fritz followed him and tried to draw the despairing youth along 
with him. 

“Come, friend Christoph, come with me.” 

Christoph drew away. 

“I say, come, Christoph.” 

Christoph gently pushed aside the hand laid upon his shoulder. 
After many entreaties, Fritz was obliged to leave him, to return to 
his own people. 

Through these bitter hours, Christoph had forgotten the sister 
who had been, next to Gertrude, the one nearest his heart. But 
now, as he turned away from Fritz, he thought of her. Where 
was Elsie ? Her home was deserted — she, too, doubtless was gone 
with her husband to seek safety. 

Gone, all gone ! sweetheart, sister, home ! he alone left, except 
for a malicious old woman, amid the wreck of the once happy 
village. He met the old dame again, and shared with her the food 
in his wallet, and gave her a few coins from his small store ; and 
then left her weeping. He walked aimlessly through the meadows 
and fields, repeating over and over her name — Gertrude, Gertrude, 
Gertrude ! 

He never knew how he passed the next few days. But at last, 
in his wanderings, he fell in with a troop of the enemy, who 
pressed him into the service of their king. 

He was now in a sad plight. Deserted, as he supposed, by Ger- 
trude, and obliged to fight against the country which he loved, 
death would have been welcome to him. But it did not come 
to still his troubled heart. When peace was declared, he was 
released, but his freedom brought him no joy. On his way to his 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


59 


uncle’s farm, to which he went because he knew of no other 
place, he thought of the lonely hut where he had rested from 
the adventures of that strange night. He found it again, after a 
long search, deeply hidden in the secluded glade. He made the 
forlorn cottage his home, and became the Hermit of the Lonely 
Glen. His Eoyal and Mischievous Highness, King Oberon, having 
separated the lovers, was at last content to leave him in peace, 
until the magic horn in the hands of our doughty Hans, roused 
him again to life and hope. 




CHAPTER VII 

Who'll buy , who'll buy ? 

A ribbon , a lace , a feather — 

And two fond hearts winch naught 
can buy , 

For Giebel to bring together. 

IN the meantime, while Chris- 
toph was living in the glen, a broken 
man, Gertrude’s true heart was beat- 
ing for him, and she was still wait- 
ing year by year for him to come 
and claim her. His niece, little Miette, was 
growing, a pretty and gentle child, to be the 
sunshine of Mother Gertrude’s life, and 
Stella Rosa now getting to be a great girl, 
prepared, unknown to herself, for the 
part she was to play in the fortunes of 
these ill-fated people. 

The visit of Giebel, the peddler, had 
given Gertrude many new thoughts to 
carry around with her The old peddler 
had known her from a baby, and had 
60 



THE HORN OF OBERON 


61 


sold her grandmother Gertrude’s first pair of shoes. He talked 
to her with all the freedom of an old friend. He had been in 
Walden a few months before, had seen Fritz and Louise — Ger- 
trude’s dearest schoolmate, now married to Fritz — and many 
other of Gertrude’s early friends. The wonder was still great 
among them that they had never heard from her. They all 
believed that she had married Ordolf, the corporal, but why had 
she never come to see them ? Why had she sent them no word ? 
Another mystery of which the good people talked was Chris- 
toph’s disappearance. No one had seen him since the day, ten 
years before, when Fritz had met him at Walden, and told him 
the painful news of Gertrude’s marriage. Giebel repeated all of 
Fritz’s story to Gertrude, and told how wildly Christoph had 
sorrowed. 

u We believe old Chris enlisted and was killed in the war, as 
he might well do after such news as that,” said Fritz ; “ but what 
has become of Gertrude? Well might she be ashamed to come 
back to her old home after forsaking good Christoph and marry- 
ing her soldier, and that may be why we have never heard from 
her.” 

“ But perhaps,” said Louise, “she is living and in trouble. Sor- 
row comes to those who do wrong.” 

These words, repeated by the peddler to Gertrude, made her 
shed many tears. 

“ I did do wrong, Giebel, but I have deeply repented. To think 
that my old friends should believe such things of me ! Alas ! how 
could they help it when they saw the soldier with me every day ? 
Still, sorro w also comes to those who have not done wrong, or why 
should Christoph have been made so unhappy? Oh, if I only knew 
where he is.” 

“ He may be dead, Gertrude,” said the peddler. 

“No, Giebel, he is not dead. Something in my heart tells me 
that he lives, and that I shall see him again. Dear Giebel, search 
for him, search for him wherever you go with your pack, and let 
me know the news whatever it is.” 


(52 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


“ Indeed I will, Gertrude. I will send him to you when I find 
him, and I know he will come across the world, if you want it.” 

After Giebel’s departure, Gertrude was more restless and 
unhappy than she had been since her grandmother’s death. It 
grieved her to the heart to know that her childhood friends were 
believing such things of her. 

“ I must go back to Walden,” she said to herself, “ in spite of 
the dangers of that terrible forest. I must tell them I am waiting 
still for Christoph. But how can I take little Miette, dear, timid 
child, through the enchanted wood ! I cannot venture into it with 
her. No, I must leave her with friends until I return.” 

But when Gertrude told the Little Mouse that she expected to 
leave her for awhile, Miette cried herself into a fever. Then 
Mother Gertrude cured the fever by promising that Miette should 
go with her — that she should not be left behind. 

“And I will carry a big, big bundle, oh, ever so big, dear 
Mother Gertrude, if I may really go along with you.” 

And that was why they left the great bustling town and jour- 
neyed on through meadows and groves, in the late May weather, 
and stopped in the villages and at the farmsteads, until Miette 
grew very weary. 

One day they reached the valley where Stella Rosa lived. 

Miette was enchanted. 

“ Oh, Mother Gertrude, what a place to live in, what a place 
to rest in ! please, please, dear Mother Gertrude, may we stay here 
awhile until our feet get well ?” 

“ Yes, here we will rest awhile, Miette, for I see your little feet 
are sore with tramping.” 

The cottage which she found for her home was humble, but it 
was cheerful and tidy. She still had the portion of money left 
her by her grandmother, to which she had added by years of 
industry. While Miette’s shoes were not fine and her gown was 
of simple stuff, she and Mother Gertrude were far from being the 
“ beggars ” which vain Adrietta had rudely called them. 

They were still lingering in the happy village on the day 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


63 


when Christoph, after his years of exile, was hastening back to 
Walden. 

It did not take Christoph long to clear the forest, for his foot- 
steps were as light as, when a youth, he first passed that way. 
His heart bounded with joy when, across the wide meadows, he 
saw the little hamlet lying, with the smoke rising peacefully from 
its cottage roofs. 

The first person he met as he reached the village, had a familiar 
look. He drew near — paused a moment — called out : 

“ Fritz ! ” 

“ Eh, who’s this ? Christoph, as I live ! and with such a beard ! 
Why, man, where have you been all these years, and why have 
we never heard of you ? ” 

“ Not so very far in distance, old friend. Do you remember 
when I saw you last, and — and the grief which came to me that 
dreadful day?” 

“ Ah, yes, old Chris, I remember it well. Come to our home, 
and see my wife, and tell me all about your adventures, and then 
in my turn, I may have something to tell you.” 

“Have you ever heard any thing of — Gertrude?” inquired 
Christoph, as they walked along. 

“ It is about her I wanted to talk to you. You remember 
old Giebel, the peddler ?” 

u Yes, yes !” 

“Well, one day, a matter of two months ago or less, he was 
walking with his pack through a city the other side of the forest, 
and after knocking at a cottage door, whom should he meet face 
to face, but Gertrude? She was overjoyed to see him, and made 
him go home with her and tell all about her old friends; but more 
than all, of you.” 

“ But her husband !” 

“ I am coming to that; Christoph, it was all a mistake. She 
went off in the night with her grandmother to find you, but lost 
her way in the forest, and wandered about until they reached 
the city. Then her grandmother became ill, and finally died, and 


64 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


Gertrude could not leave her while she lived. She said to 
Giebel : 

u ‘ Tell Christoph, if you ever meet him, that I was true to him 
at the last. I am waiting for him now, if he cares to seek me here.’ 

“ Oh, Fritz ! my poor girl, how she must have suffered all 
these years! Tell me, where is the village, so that I may go to 
her at once ? ” 

“ Oh ! that is not all, Christoph. But see, here is Louise, and 
and these are my children. Come here, rogues, if your faces are 
clean. And now, sit down awhile, and rest while I finish Ger- 
trude’s story.” 

Then he gently told him of Elsie’s death, and of little Miette, 
whom Gertrude was bringing up as her own child. 

Again the tears rolled between Christoph’s fingers, sorrowful 
tears, this time. 

“ Fritz, old friend — and I have buried myself away from my 
people all these years. But tell me, quick, where is the city — I 
must find them ! ” 

•‘Alas, that I cannot tell you. Louise, why were we so stupid 
as not to ask Giebel the name of the town ? ” and Fritz struck his 
forehead with his fist. “ I did not ask Giebel, never thinking I 
should meet you ; but he would surely know. You must find him 
and he will direct you.” 

“ Pray, where can I find Giebel ? ” 

“ He was here, perhaps a fortnight, or it may be three weeks 
ago. He said he was going to Dort, at the edge of the forest. 
You might hear of him there.” 

After a refreshing rest, Christoph set off to Dort. As he 
entered, he met a villager. 

“ Can you tell me where Giebel, the peddler, is ? ” 

“ Giebel? I saw him pass by here with his pack over a fort- 
night ago. He was walking toward the forest, and although he 
said ‘ Good day ’ and ‘ God keep you,’ he did not tell me where he 
was going. If you want to find him, old Stiefel, the cobbler, who 
is a crony of his, will tell you about him.” 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


G5 


Christoph went to Stiefel, who was sitting in his shop with 
his leathern apron on, and in his lap a shoe, into which he had just 
fitted a peg. Now Stiefel was something of a wag, and was sup- 
posed by the villagers to have more than ordinary wisdom. When 
Christoph drew near, he nodded with a quizzical look, and began 
to sing as he plied his mallet— 

“ I and the doctor are men of renown, 

The wisest of mortals are we ! 

He doses the people, each head for a crown, 

That the grave-digger idle may be. 

He cobbles their bodies while I mend their soles, 

He fills up his pockets, while I fill the holes, 

And merry as crickets are we ! 

Rap, rap, rap ! each peg with a tap 
Goes into the sole of the shoe ; 

Tap, tap, tap ! a farthing a rap — 

Who needs mending? — Stranger, do you? ” 

“ It’s neither body nor shoe which needs mending with me,” 
said Christoph, “ my mind is troubled, and I want relief from 
that.” 

“ Hm-m ! ” muttered the shoemaker, looking him over from 
head to foot, “ they all seem a little the worse for wear. But if 
it’s either mind or soul, you should go to the pastor, who is a 
greater man even than I. I can’t help you.” 

“ You can help me, if you will tell me where Giebel, the ped- 
dler, may be found at once.” 

“ Then you’ll have to go to the pastor after all, for it would 
take a wiser man than I to tell you. I knew where he was a fort- 
night ago, but Giebel is like the wind, never long in the same 
place.” 

“ Oh, tell me where he was going — I must see him right 
away.” 

“ If you are wanting a new pair of shoes, I’ll make one for 
you, and save you a chase around the country after the peddler.” 


6G 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


“ No, no ! it is not that ! Giebel knows where my true-love is, 
whom I have lost, and have not seen for years. If you could only 
tell me where to find him ” 

“So that he might send you after her? A regular merry-go- 
round ! I’ve a mind to join in the chase myself and follow in your 
track. Perhaps if I went on long enough I might find the wise 
man who could show me the end of the rainbow. I do hope you 
may find the maiden, and I’d help you if I could. Well, if you’ll 
keep along the edge of the wood until you get to the highway, 
then follow that to the first village on the other side, you’ll go 
over the same track he traveled two weeks ago, and that is all I 
can tell you.” 

Christoph was becoming discouraged, but he still trudged on, 
in the trail of the ever-vanishing peddler. From one village to 
another, then among the country folk and farmhouses he searched, 
only to find that Giebel was always a fortnight ahead. No one 
ever knew more than the peddler’s last stopping place. At last he 
lost the clue altogether. Then a friendly farmer said to him: 

“ Giebel always stops at the inn near the west gate in Bergen. 
Go there and they will be sure to know something about him. 
Take the nearest road straight through the forest.” 

“ That forest ! ” sighed Christoph. “ It must be my doom. 
Shall I end my life in its gloomy shade ? ” 

Thanking the farmer for his kindness, he turned again to the 
forest. But oh, that horn of Oberon ! Take care, Christoph, you 
are throwing yourself anew in the way of fate ! 



CHAPTER VIII 


Would I were thou , good Nimhlewit! 

Then ivould I featly tell 
How thou didst iveave thy cunning 

plot, 

And what thereon befell . 


BUT where, all this time, 
was the fateful horn and 
Hans, whom we left near the 
cottage door of the hermit? He 
had, indeed, meant to return it 
according to his father’s command ; 
but alas for good deeds which are 
only meant to be done ! After the her- 
mit’s dance, Hans could not think of 
giving up all at once such rare sport. So 
within the two weeks which had elapsed, 
he had well improved his time, and had 
gone far toward redeeming his promise to 
Marie of stirring up every soul and body 
within the bounds of the forest. 

Of course, Fairyland could not long re- 
main in ignorance of the amazing fact that 


67 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


the prize was in the hands of a mortal. Such excitement reigned 
in the kingdom from that time on as was never known before, as 
I can testify, for I was there to see. Titania was at first over- 
joyed, and declared that since the horn was now out of the 
grasp of her cruel lord, it would soon be in hers. 

When Oberon finally woke from that long sleep which had 
lasted until twilight, he found the horn missing. Puck, who since 
his return had been covering his master with gossamers to shelter 
him from the heat, was sitting near him with drooping head. 

Oberon fairly quivered with rage, and threw the whole blame 
of the loss upon his unlucky Puck. 

“ Bat ! Mole ! Stupid !” he sputtered, “ You know the heat of 
my enemy, the sun, overpowers me, and your duty should have 
led you to return ere I went to sleep. No doubt you were chasing 
your own pleasure among your grinning cronies, the Laughing 
Goblins ! Away ! Out of my sight ! I want no more such 
service! now I know that you are the dull dolt I have always 
thought you.” 

Now when we consider that Oberon had always declared 
Puck to be his swiftest and cleverest attendant, this was rather 
hard on the tricksy fairy. Who so inseparable as Oberon and 
Puck ? Who so light and quick to fetch and carry, so apt in teas- 
ing and bewildering, as the jovial, slight page ? Puck could not 
deny, however, that he had lingered for the space of fully three 
minutes and three quarters with the Laughing Goblins. They had 
been teaching him to play football with his own head, while he sat 
by on one of the peaks of the Moon Mountains and watched the 
sport — a feat never before attempted in magic. Trembling under 
Oberon’s rage, he left the presence of his angry king, and hid him- 
self in the hollow trunk of a distant tree, to grieve over the loss of 
his power and importance. 

Meanwhile, the two opposing heads of Fairyland were watch- 
ing each other's movements with jealous eyes. If they had been 
agreed, Hans could not have kept the horn as long as it takes me 
to say it. But Titania had made up her willful mind that it 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


69 


should not fall into Oberon’s mischievous hands again, and 
Oberon was equally determined that his ambitious spouse should 
not secure it. Titania had gained one immense advantage in 
having won to her cause Nimblewit, by many believed to be the 
cleverest fairy in the kingdom, while Oberon had lost his agile 
Puck. The king and the queen were fully occupied in defeating 
each ot her’s well -laid plans. No sooner had Titania woven a 
spell which should put Hans to sleep until one of her followers 
could snatch the prize, than Oberon’s men would throw pepper 
dust into his face, and a fine fit of sneezing would wake him 
thoroughly. If Will-o-the-wisp was leading him into a bog where, 
helpless and floundering, he should be surrounded by eager 
fairies, Nimblewit would scatter the fairy mist and show him his 
danger. In spite of plot and counterplot by the shrewd and 
sprightly people, Hans still wore the horn, fastened by its tiny 
chain to a strong guard about his neck. 

During the day when Christoph was again approaching 
the forest on his way to Bergen, the excitement in the fairy 
kingdom had reached its height. Queen Titania’s law required 
that the night fairies should sleep while the sun was hottest, 
so that all might be fresh as evening dew for their night revels. 
Yet Titania herself, unlike Oberon, was not wilted by the sun’s 
heat. 

It is time now to tell you the secret of Titania’s being. She 
was a creature of the dew, the perfume of flowers, and the rich 
juices of forest trees which give the leaves their color and sub- 
stance ; she was all these and more ; for at her heart was a fine 
core of fire. Most fairies are of only two elements. Oberon was 
of four, and that is why he became king. But Titania, the queen, 
was a higher-born creature than even Oberon himself, because 
her heart was born of the sun. The fire kept her awake while 
other fairies longed to sleep, and at this time turned day into 
night in Fairyland. When her heart was full of anger, its ruddy 
glow suffused her whole being and the air about her, so that the 
mist and dew fairies fled to the brooks. But Oberon, having no 


70 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


fire, could not glow ; he could only fume like a tiny cataract, when 
he was angry, or gurgle like a bubbling spring. 

All that livelong day, then, Titania waked, and kept her fairies 
roused and alert. There was hurry and bustle, there was rushing 
hither and yon, on wings, on feet, on the back of the south wind, 
all around the forest. As soon as Christoph stepped into its shade 
again, he heard the rustle, and felt the whirring of unseen wings, 
and knew that something strange was in the air. Sometimes a 
flying troop of Oberon’s men would rush into the ranks of the 
enemy, but no great harm was done, except for a few jeers which 
did not sting, some twisted mouths which did not bite, and twid- 
dling fingers which did not pinch. 

Every hour Titania would call Nimble wit into her presence. 

“Come, Nimble wit, my trusted friend, ruffle your airy thought 
into a whirlwind of scheming, if need be, until we can devise a 
plan to secure the- prize. I have sworn to humble my mocking 
and heartless lord. 1 ’ 

“ My queen, fain would I win it, not only for your sake, but 
for my own. Oberon has often scorned me, and preferred to me 
the agile Puck, who with all his swiftness and lightness, has not 
half my wit. But well I know that in our plans we need the 
aid of a mortal friendly to us. Oberon himself could not keep 
Hans from giving it to such a one, and then from his hands we 
might receive it.” 

“Well go now, Nimblewit, and speed your thinking. In the 
meantime, I will double the guard who watch the quick spies of 
Oberon.” 

The third hour after midday Titania sent for him again. 

“ Nimblewit, to-night will be a night of fate. It shall long be 
remembered in fairy annals, if we act well our part, and achieve 
this glorious victory. Do you know who has entered again the 
bounds of the magic forest? It is Christoph, good Christoph, 
whom Oberon separated from his fair Gertrude, Let it be our 
part to bring them together. That we may do, if we capture 
Oberon’s horn before the shadows have all entered the forest.” 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


71 


“ My queen, the horn shall be in your hand by the time the 
shadows thicken. Nimble wit will find a way.” 

The fairy passed from the queen’s presence into the Garden 
of Fountains. There he spied Stella Rosa, who still lingered in 
the queen’s bower. She was reclining in a listening attitude, 
with sweet thoughts written upon her face, while a fountain was 
laughing and singing to her with tinkling voice, and bursting into 
water violets. 

Nimble wit sprang from the ground with delight. 

“I have it!” he exclaimed. “Stella Rosa, the beautiful, shall 
win the horn from Hans.” 

Flying back on feet that did not feel the ground, he sought 
admission to the queen. 

“Your Majesty,” he cried, “the horn shall be ours! I have 
thought of a way to defeat the wiles of Oberon.” 

“ Speak !” said the Queen, the glow of excitement dyeing her 
face and neck like the heart of a hermosa; “speak quickly, and 
reveal your thought. Oh, if I win this prize, I will never again 
seek to appose my lord. I will be in all things a dutiful wife.” 

Then Nimblewit unfolded the plan which had come into 
his mind when he saw Stella Rosa in the Garden of Fountains. 
The queen listened, sometimes adding a word or making an 
inquiry. 

“ She shall win the horn, you will have your revenge, I shall 
have mine — and then let proud Oberon rage!” 

“ Nimblewit, the scheme shall be carried out. But before we 
perfect our plans I must tell my goddaughter, and assign to her 
her part. Go, Lightwing,” she said to a fairy near her, “ call Stella 
Rosa to me.” 

Stella Rosa, soon appeared, moving up the hall to the raised 
dais of the queen at the other end. The light, falling from the 
crystal roof in interwoven bars of all the hues of fancy, shifted 
across and around her gently swaying form. It seemed as if grace 
had found not only a form, but coloring all its own. 

“You know, Stella Rosa,” said the queen, “how longingly I 


72 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


covet the horn of my lord Oberon, now in the hands of the for- 
ester’s son. I am determined to obtain it at any cost.” 

“ Dear godmother, if it is Oberon’s, why should you long for 
it so much ?” 

“ Dear goddaughter, because it is Oberon' s. Why should I not 
have Oberon’s horn for awhile ? Did he not beguile from me what 
I held most dear ? Has he not mocked and insulted me — me, his 
wife, and the queen of this dominion ?” 

“ But among mortals it is base to seek revenge, dear Fairy 
Queen.” 

“Base!” exclaimed the queen. “I have heard whispers of 
such a thing, but I do not understand. What can we do when we 
are injured except to get revenge, if we are shrewd enough ? Why, 
goddaughter, my heart would burn until it had dried up all the 
dew in Fairyland if I could not show Oberon that I was his match 
in wit and cunning.” 

“My mamma has taught me another way, dear godmother,” 
said Stella Rosa, while the timid rose color dyed her face. “ She 
has said that I must forgive those who have injured me, and do 
good to them instead of evil. Then the heart does not burn, but 
glow ; and the dew sparkles in the glow, and never passes away.” 

A silence settled over the room. The fairies looked at each 
other in wonder, for such teachings they had never heard in Fairy- 
land. After a while the queen sighed as if she were giving up 
something precious to her. 

“ But, goddaughter, if we take the horn and keep it only for 
a night’s pastime, and restore it in the morning, will you help us 
to get it ?” 

“Dear godmother, not if it helps you to have your revenge,” 
said Stella Rosa, hanging her head and bursting into tears. 

Then the queen, after a moment’s silence, spoke in her gentlest 
tones : 

“Listen, my Stella Rosa, For your sake I will give up my 
revenge. But it was not all revenge which made me long to cap- 
ture the horn. Oberon cares not for your mortal race except to 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


73 


make them the sport of his pleasures. His resistless horn misled 
and troubled them without ceasing. Two lovers were long ago 
separated by his arts and this too playful bugle. To-day each wan- 
ders alone, seeking the other. Help me to get the horn, and it 
shall be my first duty to bring these wanderers together.” 

“ Oh, you lovely, lovely Fairy Queen ! oh, you beautiful god- 
mother !” cried Stella Rosa, “ how sweet in you to think of it !” and 
she threw herself at the feet of Titania, and kissed the fairy’s 
hands again and again. 

Eglantine, who until this time had stood silent behind the 
queen, with head hanging, as if in grief, looked up with a smile of 
delight as well as a dewy tear, and also fell at the feet of the queen. 

“Help me, Goddaughter,” continued the queen, “and you 
yourself shall witness the happy ending of these sorrows. At 
dawn I will restore the horn to my consort, Oberon, and so appease 
his anger.” 

“ Dear Godmother, I would help you gladly in all that is 
right, but what can I do ?” 

“It is you, Stella Rosa, who must meet Hans before daylight 
has faded, while Oberon is yet drowsy with sleep. You must per- 
suade him to give you the horn. Surely he cannot resist the god- 
daughter of Titania.” 

Stella Rosa smiled as she remembered how all the lads in the 
village had been slaves of her bidding since her babyhood. 

“I will do my best, dear Fairy godmother,” said Stella Rosa, 
with the happiest smile on her face which had been there since the 
day she entered Fairyland. “ Oh, how grand it is to help make 
others happy! For that I will, indeed, try to coax the horn from 
Hans.” 

“ Nimblewit, retire with me, and you, Flight and Gossamer 
and Lightwing,” said Titania. “We must make ready for the 
struggle.” 



CHAPTER IX 

Ha, ha! the magic horn is icon! 

By wit of fay, by maiden's hand , 
By conflict dire, the deed is done , 
And joy's in Fairyland. 


LATE in the afternoon of 
that same day, while Christoph 
was wearily plodding toward Ber- 
gen, Hans was hurrying home 
through the forest somewhat later 
than it was his wont to be so far 
from home. Partly on account 
of his father’s command, partly 
from a fear of the unearthly 
crew which might be lying in 
wait for him, he never lingered 
till dark in the great wood. So 
now, he clattered along, whistling 
to keep up his spirits, and cautiously 
peering around him. He did not 
know that he had been detained 
there by the contrivance of that 
very crew which he hoped to avoid. 
But Hans alone in the wood at 


74 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


75 


twilight was not the Hans who, in the cheerful sunlight, had 
boldly stolen the fairy horn. Then, he could laugh at the fears 
of Marie. Now, conscience was awake. He had secretly kept 
the horn, contrary to his father’s commands, concealing it under 
his blouse. But never in any two weeks of his life before had so 
many mishaps dampened his fun. Fun in abundance he had 
had, to be sure, but some trouble or other always followed. No 
sooner had he met a milkmaid in the early morning, and com- 
pelled the poor thing to spill ah the milk from the brimming 
pails while she capered around, than a root tripped him up, and 
his bleeding nose suffered for it ; and when the good, stout pas- 
tor’s wife had been caught by the horn music and danced a lively 
figure, Hans himself had at once thereafter slipped and sat down 
with a splash in a hidden pool and afterward been punished for 
spoiling his best trousers. He was obliged to confess that there 
might be something in what Marie said after all. Could it be 
merely chance that he was so often pierced by briars, plunged 
into bogs, or tormented by sudden gusts of wind which sent him 
chasing after his cap ? 

In truth, the fairy horn was becoming a burden. The toy, 
like every other amusement to an idle mind, had grown stale. If 
Hans could have met Oberon face to face he would have returned 
the fairy bugle and begged for mercy. But Oberon he had never 
beheld again. That wily fairy took good care not to be seen by 
mortal eyes a second time. 

The shadows began to thicken, and Hans was alone in the wood. 

What is that dark thing in the shadows ?■ — oh, only a stump, 
of course. 

But that tall white creature, that is not a stump ! — No, just 
the trunk of a white birch, after all. 

Was it the wind which moved those bushes yonder? But 
there is not even a breeze stirring. 

“ Bah ! what a chicken I am ! ” exclaimed Hans. “ I wouldn’t 
have Marie know I was scared for the world. Home I must get, 
or stay out in the forest all night. So here goes.” 


76 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


He started on faster and struck up a lively tune to keep his 
spirits up. There was a stir in the air about him. He whistled 
lower, and at last he whistled not at all. And as the whistling 
died away, his spirits sank to the ground. 

“ I don’t like this very well, I must say. It’s rather dark for 
me to be out alone. What’s that noise ? Perhaps as Marie said” — 

Crash ! scratch ! 

“ Preserve us ; what’s this ? ” 

Hans had plunged headlong into a clump of brambles. 

He floundered helplessly around in the dim light, trying 
to free himself. But as he pulled loose on one side the fierce 
briars held him fast on the other. First this way, then that, he 
jerked and tore away from them, only to find that with all his 
efforts, he was more hopelessly entangled than before. 

“Thunder!” he exclaimed, as a rent across the sleeve of his 
jacket warned him to be careful. “ What shall I do now ? There’s 
a gap in the knee of my trousers, too ! Shall I never get out of 
this ? ” 

Just then, through an opening vista in the forest before him, 
he saw a figure approaching. As it drew nearer a light seemed to 
surround it, showing him a girlish form, luminous dark eyes, and 
flowing hair. Even in his unhappy plight, Hans could not but 
notice her beauty and grace. Oh, for a convenient gap in the 
bushes through which he and his rent and disordered clothing 
might escape from her sight ! But Stella Rosa, for it was she, 
kept on until she paused just in front of him. Hans did not know 
that, unseen by him, troops of fairies were thronging the forest 
aisles, headed by their queen. Nor could he see that the tricksy 
king, Oberon, summoned by his spies, was also hastening near, 
and that his thronging attendants were pressing the fairies of 
Titania. 

“ Rash boy ! ” said Stella Rosa, “ don’t struggle with the 
briars, for you cannot free yourself except by the will of the fairy 
queen Titania.” 

“ It’s a fairy ! ” murmured Hans. 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


77 


“ No, not a fairy, but a mortal like yourself, only greater in 
fortune, for I am the goddaughter of the fairy queen. She bids 
me tell you 11 

She paused as she heard a surging in the fairy crew around 
her. One of Oberon ’s slyest and most nimble little men had 
wedged his way in between his foes, and with a spring had landed 
on a branch above Hans 1 head, preparing from that vantage 
ground to seize the horn. One of Titania’s fairies, seeing his 
purpose, had followed him in a trice, and breaking a thorn from 
the bramble, was with it vigorously prodding the enemy. 

“ Hasten, Stella Rosa . 11 said Titania, “ Oberon is here, and 
may defeat us yet . 11 

“ Titania bids me say , 11 continued Stella Rosa, “that for fear 
of other pains and sufferings far greater than these, you must 
yield to us the horn, so that I may restore it to the fairies. No 
mortal can long keep a fairy thing.” 

Hans did not like to appear a coward before this lovely girl. 

“ The threats of your fairy queen do not frighten me,” 
he replied valiantly, although he was trembling from head to 
foot. “ I have the horn and mean to keep it — until the owner 
comes and takes it, anyway.” 

There was a pushing and rustling amid the branches, as if 
some one was forcing his way through. But Stella Rosa stood 
calmly smiling at the boy. 

“ Hans,” she said, and through the fairy light her smile shone 
with winning radiance, “ such boldness is manly ! but, good Hans, 
because you are bold and strong, you will not refuse a favor to 
me, a girl, who is not bold nor strong, like you ? The fairy queen 
herself would restore the horn to the rightful owner; and she 
commands me to ask it of you. Think how cruel it would be to 
keep me from obeying her commands.” 

“For your sake,” replied Hans, “and because you have the 
sweetest voice girl ever spoke with, I surrender to you the horn.” 
The bewitched Hans raised his arm to take the toy from the cord. 
“ O-ow-oh ! 11 he shrieked as a thorn pierced him sharply, “ that is, 


78 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


I would if I could, but these brambles hold a fellow’s arm so tight ! 
Take it, if you can, for I am pinned fast.” 

Stella Rosa stepped nearer, and lifted the cord from his 
head. 

And now was the moment of final struggle. By this time, two 
opposing armies were contending on the branches above them. 
Oberon, at the outer edge of the circle, watched the strife with 
rage, and fumed out his orders to the little men nearest Hans. 
Some of them, in obedience to his commands, swung upon the 
cord, and linking themselves with a strong phalanx outside, 
strove to drag it out of Stella Rosa’s hands. Titania’s followers 
kept breaking the phalanx, and, circling round Stella Rosa, pushed 
away the opposing crowds. Then a firm-packed mass dashed sud- 
denly down from above, and were about to pounce upon the 
horn itself, and carry it off, when one of Titania’s champions 
leaped into the mob and dashing through, covered the horn with 
her body. Each party, pushing and thronging, strove to drive the 
other from the field. Fairy spell was opposed to fairy spell, and 
such deeds of valor were done during those moments, that the 
two poets-laureate, who repeated the story as it was afterwards 
told to them (for both were at that time sound asleep far away), 
each made an epic in which his side, after unheard-of feats, was 
the undoubted victor. 

“ Make way for King Oberon !” shouted the herald. 

“ Back !” said Titania. “Oberon himself shall not approach 
this place yet. Fairies, I am your queen ! Force back these hordes 
of my angry lord !” 

Through all the fairy strife, Stella Rosa had remained calm. 
Not one of Oberon’s crew would lift his hand to harm the gentle 
maiden. 

At last, having severed the chain from the heavy cord, she 
gave the horn to Titania, who received it with a smile of delight 
The fairies of Titania set. up a shout of victory, but their queen 
raised her hand. 

“At last !” she exclaimed, “ and for once, we have gained the 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


79 


day ; let us not humble them further by exulting. Stella Rosa has 
told us of a better way. Make way, fairies, for your queen.” 

She passed through the crowd which divided on either side, 
until she paused near Oberon. 

“ Titania,” cried Oberon, fuming with rage, “ I, your liege lord, 
command you to give back the bugle which you have stolen !” 

“Dear Oberon, my husband,” said Titania, “have patience, if 
you can, and listen to what I would say. At this moment, two 
lovers are passing through this forest by different ways, who, years 
ago — long to mortals — were separated by your fairy bugle. To- 
night, this bugle shall unite them again. But first, this pre- 
sumptuous Hans shall be punished for his folly ; my goddaughter 
shall hear the merry thing as we dance to this reunion ; and then, 
I promise you, the horn shall be returned. Titania wishes to dis- 
pute no more with Oberon, for mortals say it is nobler to forgive.” 

Oberon, the careless-hearted and light-minded, was appeased 
by this speech of his queen. 

“Let it be as you wish, Titania,” he replied. “You have 
always loved the mortal race, and you are worthy to be indeed 
a woman. Let us dance to a double reunion then, and after you, 
I will choose your lovely goddaughter for a partner.” 

“ In good time, my Oberon ; but now, I must hasten to bring 
all these affairs to a happy ending.” 

The joyous queen beckoned to one of her fairies. 

“Watch this boy, Gossamer, and do not let him stray far 
from the spot. We have not done with him yet. Come, fairies, 
away to the magic circle.” 

Stella Rosa was seized by a horde of fairies, and borne lightly 
to the place where Titania was hastening. Arriving there, they 
saw weary Christoph plodding along the way near the spot where 
wanton Oberon had once led him from the path. 

“ Here he comes again, the forlorn lover,” said the fairy queen. 
“ But now Titania holds the magic horn, and it shall go hard with 
us if we cannot restore this seedy and unshorn traveler to the 
woman he loves.” 


80 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


“ Oho !” exclaimed Oberon, “ you think he loves her still, then ? 
Let us try his constancy. Let him first see Stella Rosa, and if he 
ever thinks of Gertrude again, I’m no fairy.” 

“ I’ll give up my scepter if he yields. I have faith in this 
man, travel-soiled and homely as he is. Come to me, Stella Rosa,” 
and Titania touched her goddaughter with her wand. Stella 
Rosa’s beautiful garments were changed to the clothing of a 
simple village maiden with rustic cap and long dark braids. 
She herself appeared as she might when years had brought 
her to womanhood. By this time, the circle was alight with a 
thousand fairy lanterns, and Christoph, led by the horn, stum- 
bled on into the brightness. Titania suddenly revealed herself 
to him. 

“ Poor weary wayfarer,” she said, “ here you may rest. I, the 
Fairy Queen, know your trials, and whom you are seeking. Come, 
recline awhile upon this couch of moss.” 

The dazed and bewildered man sank speechless upon the 
ground. 

“ You seek Gertrude, your former love, do you not ?” continued 
Titania. 

“Kind fairy,” said Christoph, as soon as he could speak, “if 
you know whom I am seeking, perhaps you could give me some 
tidings of her. For long years I have not seen my little girl. 
Oh, if you have the power and are kindly disposed to me, lead me 
to her !” 

“You speak as if she were still a girl, young and beautiful,” 
said Titania. “Why, she is no longer either. Come, think no 
more of her. I will show you a maiden so beautiful you will never 
find her equal upon earth. Look at her, and forget that one who 
is now only a faded woman.” 

“ Unkind fairy, malicious like all your race!” exclaimed Chris- 
toph. “ I want no one but my own Gertrude. Let me go,” he 
continued, attempting to rise, “I will die seeking her.” 

“ No, perverse man, you cannot stir from this spot without 
my leave. How do you know but Gertrude has ceased to love 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


81 


you ? She may be weary of waiting for you. No, not a word yet. 
Let me show you the maiden. Stella Rosa, appear !” 

As Stella Rosa stepped before him, Christoph gazed upon her 
with wonder. 

“She is indeed beautiful — more lovely than a dream,” he mur- 
mured. Suddenly he rose as if to approach her. Then as quickly 
he turned his back upon her and faced the fairy queen. 

u You cannot make me untrue to my first and only love, 
unkind fairy,” he said. “ Even if she be weary of waiting and 
believes me dead, I will be true to the memory of our young days.” 

“ Noble-hearted man !” exclaimed Titania, springing from her 
mossy seat, “ you richly deserve the happiness which will soon be 
yours ! Farewell ! ” 

She vanished, and the light which had been so bright, sud- 
denly changed to a soft, restful twilight. A chorus of tender voices 
began to sing : 

“ Weary traveler, cease thy care, 

Rest thee in this fairy shade ; 

Hither, powers of magic rare 
Soon shall lead thy faithful maid. 

Far from trouble, snares and foes, 

Sink in well-deserved repose.” 

“ Ah, how restful this moss looks ! said Christoph. “I am so 
tired, I must lie here awhile. Oh, Gertrude, it seems as if you 
were not far away ; — Good-night, Gertrude,” he murmured, as the 
spell began to work, “I will see you in the morning ;” and then he 
slept. 

“Hasten,” said Titania, “hasten, Flight, and bring me news 
of Gertrude.” 

Flight soon returned with the tidings that Gertrude was rest- 
ing at a house on the border of the forest. 



CHAPTER X 


Farewell ! the languid dawn is gleaming— ■ 
We go , we glide ; 

Along the last thin moonbeam streaming, 

We sivarm and slide ; 

Where rings the coivslip's tinkling bell, 

We go, farewell ! 

NOW that Flight 
has brought such news, 
it will be well to 
pause long enough to 
explain why Gertrude 
had left her home 
-again. 

A week after Chris- 
toph departed from 
Walden to search for 
the peddler, Giebel 
himself entered the 
village by another way. There he was told by Fritz of his old 
friend’s return, and of how Christoph had gone to the other side 
of the forest to seek him. 

“Well,” said kind-hearted Giebel, “ I don’t know where to find 
him, but I can soon see Gertrude, for I am going to thejeity where 
she lives. So I believe I’ll just make across the plain as fast as 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


83 


this pack will let me, and tell her to come right to Walden, for 
Christoph will return some time, I know, and then he will find 
her here.” 

Giebel easily persuaded himself that his business required him 
to go at once to the city where he had met Gertrude ; so, without 
stopping on the way, except for rest and food, he hastened across 
the plain, knocked at Gertrude’s cottage, and found it empty. It 
was a sore disappointment to the good man. 

But he was not long kept in suspense. One of Mother Ger- 
trude’s girls, passing at that moment along the street while thjt 
peddler stood uncertain, recognized him. She had bought a ribbon 
of him when he made his former call, and now addressed him. 
From her he learned that Gertrude had started back to Walden 
with Miette, over a month before. 

Why, then, had she not reached Walden long ago? Had she 
lost her way again? Was she lying somewhere ill and friendless ? 
There was but one thing to do, and that was to follow in her 
retreating steps, as Christoph was somewhere following him. He 
started back again, almost as discouraged as poor Christoph. 

If you have sung in a round — the fairies sing them every 
night to their dances — you will know how bewildered the peddler 
felt, who was leading. It was, as the cobbler had said, a curious 
merry-go-round. Christoph was following Giebel, Giebel was fol- 
lowing Gertrude, and Gertrude had started for Walden, where she 
hoped some time to meet Christoph. 

“ Will they ever meet at this rate ?” said the peddler to himself. 

But he was destined to better fortune than poor Christoph. 
Just as he entered the pretty village where Gertrude was staying 
with Miette, he met Gertrude herself face to face. 

“ Giebel again !” exclaimed Gertrude, joyfully. “ Dear Giebel, 
what news from Walden?” 

When Giebel told her that she was righted again in the good 
opinion and affection of her old friends, that Christoph had ap- 
peared, that he was following Giebel himself to get news of Ger- 
trude, her joy knew no bounds. 


84 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


u I will not wait another day,” she said, between smiles and 
tears. “ I have stayed here so long only to please Miette ; for she, 
poor child, was charmed with the place, and so weary with the 
journey, I had not the heart to take her further for awhile. Now 
she has found a new friend, a very rich lady ” — for so simple Ger- 
trude thought Stella Rosa’s mother — “ who invites Little Mouse to 
visit her every day. Yes, I will hasten on to AYalden. It will he 
sweet to some time meet Christoph in the old home where we 
parted.” 

But Titania, as we have seen, had other plans for them. 

Gertrude left Miette for awhile in the care of Stella Rosa’s 
mother, and set out toward the forest. Arriving there, she stopped 
for the night with the old f agot-gatherer ; but she was restless, and 
could not sleep. The wind, rustling the leaves outside, seemed 
calling her to come to them. Instead of going to rest on her hard 
couch, she stepped out of the door, and paced to and fro before the 
cottage. The tears came into her eyes as she recalled her child- 
hood and Christoph — dear, good Christoph, whom she hoped now 
to meet. 

Wrapped in thought, she moved on without thinking where 
her straying feet were carrying her, until she found she had entered 
the gloom of the enchanted forest. Then she suddenly paused and 
looked about her. 

“How strange! there is something in the air so stirring, so 
bewitching, as on that unlucky night — ah !” 

A fine voice was singing at her ear : 


“ Come follow, lady, follow, 
Tliou canst not choose delay } 
No swifter flies the swallow 
Than thou slialt tread the way. 
Come, lightly trip the forest, 
And leave the tiresome plain ; 
Thy feet shall pause for no rest 
Till they find thy love again.” 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


85 


Then upon her ear fell a fine, thin note of music. Not joyous the 
strain, nor rollicking, as when Oberon had led her astray into sor-^ 
row, but so gently, even tenderly, it fell upon her ear, that scarcely 
knowing she moved at all, she glided after it. So, lightly speed- 
ing along, skimming the ground with a swift, smooth motion, she 
soon neared the place where Christoph was slumbering. Pausing 
at a distance from where he lay concealed, the horn withdrew, and 
left her, apparently alone, in amazement at this new wonder. 

“ Truly, I wish I had not tried to go! through this bewitched 
forest again. Alone this time, with not even my poor grand- 
mother to keep my courage up, what new trick will be played upon 
me, “ till I find my love again” ? What can it mean? I hope it is not 
a snare to lead me into danger. Well, I am safe for the present, 
at any rate, and I will wait without terror until something else 
happens.” 

“Now,” said Titania, “the next scene in this night’s entertain- 
ment shall be for my lord Oberon’s special delight. Gossamer, 
lead that venturesome boy, Hans, to our presence. Now, my 
Oberon, you may visit upon this hapless wight any punishment 
you think fit.” 

u A taste of his own sport would be most to my mind. Let 
him have his fill of my dainty horn.” 

“Come, fairies, away then. Now throng the forest aisles, 
good people, and wing it as swiftly and rollickingly as you will ; 
and you, Stella Rosa, shall recline here until our return, and then 
for a merry round with my jovial lord. Take the horn, Nimble- 
wit, to yon belongs the honor of this dance. Up, sprites, away !” 

Unlucky Hans ! rash, disobedient boy ! Plodding through the 
uncertain light, he comes doubtfully onward, bewildered and 
trembling, when out rings the music of the fairy horn in merry 
fury. Oft* he goes, the countless fairy troop thickening the very 
air abont his head. Round and round in maddening whirls, circles 
within circles, windings of curious maze, they lead the stumbling 
lad. In and out among the tree clumps they flash. He sings, he 
shouts, and tosses up his arms. Trembling along the margin of 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


8G 

shadowy lakes, up and down seemingly endless hillocks, deep in 
lonely vales, Hans presses on after the ever receding horn, nor may 
he pause, except as Nimblewit pauses for new breath. As time 
speeds on, faster and more furious grows the fun. Now his hair 
stands on end, as in a dismal glen, he meets the awesome “ foxfire,” 
ghostly dweller of the wood. Then tearing through the copse, the 
yawning rents in his already tortured clothes testify to the strength 
of the brambles. A moment more, sunk in the watery bog up to the 
waist, he splashes and struggles in vain efforts to escape, until 
soaked from head to foot ; but escape he must and tries to, only to 
rush into new toils. Next, up a steep incline he plunges along, the 
whirling fairies singing gibes and jests about his head. Hark ! 
the troop breaks into a chorus : 

“ Blow, blow the fairy horn, 

Dance, dance o’er the green, 

Tripped by root and caught by thorn, 

Sunk in marsli-damp all forlorn, 

Sorrier wight was never seen. 

Fairies, wheel your airy flight, 

Lead him on with bugle gay, 

Merrier will he never trip, 

E’en upon his wedding day ! ” 

Now the dancers as they whirl along, again approach Stella 
Rosa. Hans has long ago forgotten to laugh. Even the horn 
music can wring no more shouts from him. His whole body a 
rack of pain, his clothing soaked tatters, his manliness forgotten, 
he cares not for the bright eyes of Stella Rosa, he does not 
even see her, as he limps past, sobbing, breathless, exhausted. 
Stella Rosa at sight of him, also bursts into tears, and throws her- 
self before the fairy queen. 

“Dear Queen,” she sobs, “Do not, oh, do not punish him any 
more ! Surely, he has suffered too much already.” 

“What say you, my Oberon,” says Titania, “is it not 
enough •?” 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


87 


u Enough, my lovely queen,” responds the king, whom the 
sport has put in high good humor, “ I think he has had all the fun 
he will need for another fortnight ; and as for the dance, ha, ha, 
ha ! Nimble wit handles the horn as well as I might, myself ! good 
Nimblewit, it is a rare night, indeed!” 

At these words, Nimblewit forgets his grudge against the king, 
and becomes again his ardent admirer. 

“The young hours of the new day are growing long,” said 
Titania, “lead him to the place where Gertrude is sleeping.” 

The panting Hans drops prone upon the sward. 

“The black imps seize that horn!” he gasps, as soon as he 
recovers breath. “ May I never see the unlucky thing, nor any of 
its kind again ! ” 

“ Ah, ah, ah !” sings a (‘horns of voices at his ear. 

“ He hopes he ne'er may hear again 
The magic bugle ring, 

Such sports as these he will forego, 

Nor touch a fairy thing. 

Oh, no ! no, no, no ! 

Nor hear a fairy sing.” 

Chorus responding at a distance : 

“ Oli, no ! no, no, no ! 

Nor hear the bugle ring.” 

Gertrude, who had dropped into quiet slumber, was not 
roused by the song nor the horn, whose music had shrunk to a 
thin note, almost too delicate for mortal ear. The chorus again 
murmured softly: 


11 Speed well the easy task, good Hans, 
The fairies bid you do, 

Lead out these way-worn lovers here, 
And then farewell to you.” 




88 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


“ Now for our own dance,” said Titania. 

Oberon seized Stella Rosa, Titania gave her hand to Nimble- 
wit, and they were soon circling away as madly as only fairies 
might, who through the livelong night had been tripping a meas- 
ure. But ere long, an airy form sprang into the circle, and fell at 
the feet of Oberon. 

“For me, also, Master, is there not some sport for me?” 

“ Puck !” exclaimed all Fairyland at a breath, and the dancing- 
ceased. 

“ My Oberon,” said Titania, will you not forgive your agile 
Puck on a night when all is harmony but for this unhappy 
one ?” 

Now as Oberon was secretly delighted at the chance of taking 
back his follower, who had been his dearest crony and the fittest 
companion for his sportive spirit, this matter was soon settled. 

“ The time draws near for the second cock-crowing,” said 
Titania. “ What shall we do until then ? ” 

Fitful Oberon was in a softened mood. 

u Let us have a fairy wedding,” he said. 

“ A fairy wedding ? ” said Titania, “ with all my heart ! There 
has been no wedding in Fairyland since you and I, dear Oberon 
But who is there to wed ? Few fairies, you know — 

But to the amazement of all Fairyland, Puck at this moment 
sprang to Eglantine, and drawing her into the circle, knelt with 
her before the king and queen. 

“ Master, we loved each other before Fairyland was divided. 
She went with her queen, I stayed with my king. Shall not we 
have a wedding now ? ” The king took Eglantine’s hand, and the 
queen took Puck’s. After they had joined them, all the encircled 
fairies danced around them and, flying near, threw kisses to the 
united pair. 

“ Puck shall dance with me a parting round.” said Titania, 
“and you, my lord, lead off with Eglantine, and then we will 
away, before my Stella Rosa’s white eyelids droop, until they shut 
in her starlit eyes.” 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


89 


“Agreed,” replied Oberon, “for dawn is breaking, and my 
white eyelids are already drooping.” 

“But one moment, dear Oberon,” said Titania, when the 
dance was finished. “ We have had a fairy wedding ; and now 
will you give your free consent to the union of these mortal lovers 
whom once you separated ? ” 

“ Consent ?■ ha, ha, ha ! when all the doings of the night have 
led everything straight to the fulfilment of this desire of yours, 
Oberon lias little left to do except to give consent. However, if 
you wish for more, kindly lend me the horn, good Nimblewit. I 
will return it to you, my queen.” 

Oberon, taking the horn, led the way to sleeping Christoph. 
Flying round the slumberer in ever narrowing circles, his roguish 
face lit up with a smiling humor which Titania thought enchant- 
ing, and which made her love him even better than before, Oberon 
blew out a soft lively tinkling tune at Christoph’s ear. 

“ I’ll start this ancient lover to his new courting,” he said. 

Just then, Pugpippin, so mad with merriment that he had 
been perching with one foot on the coachman’s seat, while he 
leaned far over the ponies and shook the reins about their ears, 
drew the coach up at Stella Rosa’s side. The maiden sprang in, 
while the laughing fairies prepared to skip and fly. 

“ One more chorus,” said Titania, leading the way with 
Oberon. 

“ One round, one long mad round again, 

Oh, morn, come not too soon, 

“O’er couch of cloud yet lingering wait, 

0 sprite-beloved moon ! ” 

Repeating softly, and yet more softly the refrain, they whirled 
away, while the distant echo, in a fine, thin voice, replied: 

“ Oh, sprite-belove'd moon ! ” 

And the forest was left to its human occupants until another 
night. 

As if in response to the echo, at this moment, Gertrude awoke. 


90 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


The dawn was bright enough to clearly reveal Hans, as he sat 
near her, leaning against the trunk of a tree. 

This is not the love I have been seeking,” she said to herself 
with a smile at his woe-begone appearance. “The fairies have 
not kept their promise. Good lad,” she continued, as she rose, 
“ are you lost, like me, in this strange forest ? I have been led 
here by a power I could not resist, which seems to haunt the place, 
to the confusion of travelers. Twice I have heard it. I am tired ? 
bewildered, lost. Can you tell me how to find my way out, away 
from the magic of that terrible horn ? ” 

“ Plague on the horn ! ” Hans burst forth ; “it has served me 
worse than you. See where the briars have torn my clothes, 
and my shoes, too, soaked with water, and worn through the 
soles. How I wish I had never seen or heard the tormenting 
thing ! ” 

“ Poor boy ! You are certainly in a worse plight than I. But 
you say you have seen it, which I have never done. Is that why 
you have fared so badly ? ” 

“ Never mind that,” said Hans, fidgeting about uneasily. He 
disliked to confess having brought upon himself his present sad 
plight by taking and using the horn. “ One thing is certain, I am 
not fit to be seen ; if you won’t look at my jacket and trousers ” 

“ I can easily pardon your mishaps, as I have suffered myself ; 
but if you can show me the way out of this place, good boy, it 
shall be my first care to mend those sad-looking garments.” 

“Oh, my mother will mend the clothes; but indeed, I would 
lead you out gladly, only that tormenting horn has muddled my 
head so that I could not find my way in this dim light.” 

“Well, the morning grows brighter every moment. Look! 
isn’t some one moving there among the trees? ” 

“ Yes, it seems to be a man, and he is coming this way.” 

“ Some traveler, perhaps, bewildered like us. What a strange 
night this has been !” 

Christoph, for he it was, as soon as he saw them, drew nearer. 

“ If you are- about to leave this place, would you kindly show 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


91 


me the way out ? I was led from my path last night, and over- 
come by weariness, fell asleep. Now I am lost, and ” 

During this speech, Gertrude had risen, and stood faltering in 
bewildered joy, for although time had so changed him in other 
ways, Christoph’s voice she recognized at once. Then the fairy’s 
promise flashed across her mind: “ Till they find thy love again.” 
Before he stopped speaking, all doubt had ceased — she knew that 
here, indeed, was her long-lost friend. She took two steps forward? 
paused timidly, murmured: 

“ Christoph ! ” 

“ Gertrude ! ” exclaimed Christoph. 

“The hermit!” cried Hans, all in a breath. The next 
moment she was sobbing on Christoph’s shoulder, while Hans 
stood by in open-eyed wonder, not unmingled with scorn. He 
began to be impatient before the lovers grew calm again. 

“ But how came you here, Gertrude? ” asked Christoph, after 
awhile. 

“ Giebel, the peddler, told me you were looking for me, and I 
started at once to go back to dear old Walden, when ” 

“ Giebel !” interrupted Christoph, “how did lie know anything 
about it ? Here I have been scouring the plain and forest over for 
him, to ask about you, when last night ” 

“ That plaguy horn led us all a pretty jig !” broke in Hans. 
But if you want me to show you the way out of this beastly place, 
I’d like to have you start soon, for I am hungry.” 

“ True,” said Gertrude, “ and we are all tired. See ! the sun is 
glimmering with straight beams between the tree trunks. We 
can talk as we go.” 

“Yes, let us hasten,” said Christoph, drawing Gertrude’s 
arm within his own. When they were fairly on the way, Chris- 
toph for the first time had leisure to look more closely at their 
guide. Suddenly he said : 

“But who is this? Didn't I see you, my lad, a fortnight 
ago, before my cottage ? Wasn’t it you who blew upon the horn ?” 
Hans blushed, stammered, and finally confessed the pranks he 


32 


A FAIRY NIGHT’S DREAM 


had been playing* for the last two weeks. His listeners made 
joyful their reunion, laughed heartily at the tale, and Christoph 
easily forgave the trick that had restored his disturbed mental 
powers. So talking eagerly of their various adventures, they 
arrived at the forester’s house. 

When Hans opened the door, he was met by Marie, who 
shrieked as if she had seen a ghost. The mother ran hither, the 
father followed. They had been awake all night, searching for 
their straying boy. There was a marvelous tale to tell. For 
awhile, all talked at once. It took long to disentangle the straight 
thread of the story. The mother, with joyous tears, insisted that 
Christoph was her son’s preserver; he vainly asserting that, on the 
contrary, Hans had been Ms preserver. 

The father broke in : 

“ But at any rate, you and your good wife have brought our 
son safely to his home ” 

At which Gertrude blushed and tried to speak, but could not. 

Finally, Christoph, begging them all to listen, explained their 
situation. He told of their childhood — their betrothal — of how 
they had been separated, and that only this morning they had 
met again. 

“ And now,” added Christoph, “ we must be married to-day, 
for I cannot think of being separated from her again.” 

The good forester’s wife, delighted to have a wedding in 
her house, bustled about and hurried the maids until they 
had placed before the guests an abundant breakfast. Then 
came the pastor, and with his blessing, the Hermit of the 
Lonely Glen became a joyful bridegroom, and Mother Gertrude a 
happy bride. 

Then they returned to Walden. 

The forester, however, had been so pleased with Christoph, 
that he sent for them to come and live near him, that he might 
employ Christoph in the care of the forest. 

They found that the hut where Christoph had lived so long 
alone, could be enlarged into a charming cottage. To the cottage, 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


93 


therefore, went Christoph and Gertrude to live. As they entered 
the door, Christoph said : 

“ What a pity, dear Gertrude, that the rose vine has shed all 
its blossoms! I wish it was covered with roses to welcome 
you !” 

But Gertrude stopped, and lifting the fallen branch which 
struck against the door, found one late rose upon it. 

See,” she said, as she propped the branch neatly against the 
wall, “one rose to welcome me ! and many, many more through 
the long years !” 

With them, of course, came dear little Miette to be their own 
daughter ; and Christoph filled as well the place of the lost father 
as Gertrude had for so many years taken Elsie’s place to the 
motherless child. 

And who, do you suppose, brought to them the needful house 
furnishings, and the dainty trifles of dress which made Gertrude 
look young and sweet in Christoph’s eyes ? Who, but old Giebel ? 
For a few years yet, he carried his pack through the forest, where 
he knew a warm corner was always waiting for him at Gertrude’s 
fireside. 

As for Hans, he became so fond of Gertrude that he spent 
most of his idle hours (which at first were many) at the cottage. 
But as time wore on, he learned from Christoph’s energy and 
industry to be ashamed of his faults, and gradually became a com- 
fort to his father’s declining years. 

And Stella Rosa ? When she woke from a long, deep sleep 
after that dawn in which Christoph and Gertrude found each other, 
she was lying on the pretty couch in her own sweet room at her 
mother’s cottage. How she came there, she never knew, although 
Queen Titania could have told her, or perhaps her mother, or 
even I. 

Miette often visited her there ; there she grew to womanhood, 
and — but it would take another story to relate all that happened 
to Stella Rosa before she met the prince and was married and 
made queen of her husband’s dominions. If I should come back 


94 


A FAIRY NIGHT'S DREAM 


again — but that is as Titania wills ; well, well, we are growing old 
— but if I should return, then I will tell her story. 

And how long did little Miette brighten the woodland cottage 
with her quiet ways ? Hans could have told you. When he grew 
to be a man, he did not need to go farther than the cot in the 
forest to find him a bride ; why should he, when there under the 
rose vine stood the gentlest and sweetest maiden in all the forest 
country — darling, dainty, little Miette ? 

Titania was willing to give up her darling godchild after 
Oberon and she became united again. She kept her word -and 
restored the horn to Oberon, who, to please her, promised that 
he would never use it again for the distress of mortals ; but, sly 
fellow, he was ever on the watch, and when he found Christoph 
a little vexed, or Gertrude somewhat sad — both being but human 
—he felt at liberty to give a gentle blast, which soon brought the 
smiles to their faces, and the merriment to their hearts. 

Gertrude, when she saw her two babies smiling in the cradle, 
would say: 

u They are listening to the horn !” 

Or Christoph, when his lambs skipped about the tiny 
meadow, would laugh and exclaim : 

“ The horn, the horn ! let them dance if they will, but good 
Fairy King, spare me !” And Oberon was kind. Even Hans after 
awhile could hear the horn spoken of without a blush or a 
frown ; could relate his exploits to Miette ; and could even enjoy 
a gentle caper when Oberon was near, and be all the better for it. 
None of them, therefore, ever again had reason to be aught but 
thankful for 


THE FAIRY HORN OF OBERON. 

ffe "sfr vfr vfr 7f vf -JJ. 

The gray dawn of a winter morning steals through my 
window, and the white ashes lie dead in the grate. Gone are the 
visions of the fire. Where are Oberon and Titania, Rick and 
Nimblewit ? Where, oh where is Mikterenos ? Only a scarlet bow 


THE HORN OF OBERON 


95 


which I pick up from the floor, and which I am sure I saw upon 
her staff, speaks of her presence. To be sure, Sylvia curls her red 
upper-lip and declares it is the very bow which she lost from her 
hair last night, but what care I ? She was not visited by Miktere- 
nos, nor chosen to hear her latest story. 

Farewell, Mikterenos ! Farewell, Oberon and Titania ! You 
have gone upon your long journey The forest aisles are no more 
thronged with airy figures ; the mountain glens are forsaken. 
Forsaken, did I say? Not while there is still a path of moonbeams 
through the calm ether ; while the rose wafts out her fragrance 
through the midsummer nights ; while a warm chimney corner 
and an idle dreamer invite them hither ; while Childhood opens 
its doors and calls them in with shouts and hand-clapping. While 
these endure, the happy horn shall keep the child-heart beating 
all over the world. 


THE END. 



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